Delving into the art and profession of curating. Strong identity, transversal vision, and harmony with both the observer and the artist are just some of the elements that have distinguished him over the years. “Curating is a four-handed job,” as he himself states, and from his early works to his recent role at the Biennale 2024, he brings this meaning to life. An intricate discussion with a rock and empathetic spirit to gain a comprehensive view of this practice.
Curatorial practice is an elaborated process based on the accurate re-contextualisation of works and various other factors. What do you consider really significant or essential for an optimal result?
Good question… one of the crucial issues at the moment. There are many elements because curatorship is composed of many factors: it includes a scenographic and choreographic component, consisting of meaningfully arranging objects within a space where bodies move. These bodies need to be able to read your mind, to understand what you had in mind, moving with their own bodies within a space. Therefore, there is a very strong theatrical dimension; not surprisingly, some of the greatest curators of the past came from the theatre world, such as the famous example of Harald Szeemann. However, I believe the most important component is having a certain type of attitude; it’s always necessary to ensure that every exhibition, even in a subtle or hidden way, can destabilise what has been done up to that moment. From a curatorial perspective, it’s necessary to shift thinking, to take it beyond the point where it was before. There’s always a need for a combative, battling attitude to ensure there’s something destabilising in everything you do. By this, I don’t mean that you always need to be provocatively direct; sometimes things can be done subtly, and sometimes the most revolutionary thing is to be very sober, very simple. I believe this is the most important attitude; it allows you to ensure that the collection of works presented in an exhibition is greater than the sum of its parts. There must always be a part of your thinking as a curator that makes everything more significant.
Delving on today’s curatorial scene, do you think there’s something that has significantly changed in recent years that you wish were different (feel free to express any free-flowing critique or observation)?
No, I haven’t seen significant changes, honestly. Certainly not positive ones. You know, I started right in the early 2000s, 2002, 2003, and back then there was a lot of enthusiasm and a strong desire to experiment. Nowadays, from a strictly curatorial point of view, everything has become a bit more boring; perhaps because in recent years other issues (political, postcolonial…) have been prioritised that obviously do not align with the world of curatorship.
“There’s always a need for a combative, battling attitude to ensure there’s something destabilising in everything you do.”
What do you think about the trend and almost unconscious need to introduce technological expedients to create experiential/multisensory exhibitions? Do you think they often distract from the true core of the exhibition and the works of the artist?
Well, I am absolutely against that, or rather, I’m not against it, but I have an extremely negative opinion. In principle, I’m never against any type of technology because any technology that comes along, in my opinion, can bring good things. But they need to be used in an interesting way, and so far I haven’t seen great things. All the various experience exhibitions, all those things… they are truly horrible, very boring, and will leave absolutely nothing behind. Moreover, it bothers me when I see computers at the entrance of museums; they seem like those things where children start playing, those terrifying things that convey only the opposite message to what we should be conveying… as if giving the idea that the artwork is not enough, that it is a weakened form, as if a painting, because it is ‘fake’, could offer less than an experience with Oculus. The greatness of a painting lies precisely in being a surface within which we can actually dive, reaching a level of depth and immersion even superior to any reality. Often we ourselves communicate a deficiency of what we deal with. Instead, we need to be able to make people understand that a sculpture, a painting, in themselves, are already enough and go even beyond, achieving more than virtual reality can often do. I haven’t yet seen artists who have done great things with virtual reality, and that saddens me, it’s a bit of a shame. I hope that in that regard, there will be more experimentation, while remaining aware that it’s not what’s most needed, because art in itself is already sufficient to a greater extent.
Speaking about your past commissions, is there one particularly significant instance where you felt you had a wide margin of expressive freedom, where you truly left your mark?
Another good question. There are a few exhibitions that I was really happy with; I can tell you about two experiences in particular, fairly recent. One is the exhibition I did with Jacopo Benassi in La Spezia, called ‘Matrice’, where it was truly a conjunction, a level of intensity of dialogue and total harmony. It turned out to be a truly beautiful exhibition where we were given maximum freedom and consequently we pushed hard, creating a very particular, aggressive project that was also very demanding. The other work that comes to mind is the Albanian Pavilion at the Biennale. Iva Lulashi’s work is tough, dealing with pornographic, erotic material, and therefore it had a very powerful impact; from the Albanian government, there was maximum freedom, they were fantastic commissioners.
Unlike many of my colleagues, I don’t work with many artists, but with a few selected ones, and I try to work with them for a long time; some of these are Italian, some are foreign, and what is truly beautiful is that it is always a four-handed work, a magical harmony that returns and comes out. I am always very happy about this.
“The greatness of a painting lies precisely in being a surface within which we can actually dive, reaching a level of depth and immersion even superior to any reality.”
Concerning your nomination as curator of the Albanian Pavilion for Biennale 2024. Inside this deep and meaningful context, what was your initial aim? Your first aesthetic lens. And, speaking at a later perspective, do you feel you have fulfilled it completely?
Yes, I feel I have met it because my first objective was to create a space that conveyed the idea of intimacy, voyeurism, desire, pleasure, fears, and hopes within Iva’s work. It’s a work related to sexuality, which brings with it many aspects: beautiful, but also much darker ones (from all points of view). In a social context like today, where there is a lot of talk about sexuality, also and especially from a political perspective, we wanted to embrace a more personal, existential, intimate vision as well. I wanted these aspects, made of lights but also of shadows, to come out strongly and we succeeded… we recreated the artist’s home studio, this dimension both spatial and narrative, which allowed all these aspects to emerge strongly.
What are the more intrinsic and profound aspects related to the general theme of Biennale 2024 and the entire current social context?
I’m glad you asked this because we’ve always addressed it in the most direct and straightforward way in our communications.
There is a very obvious side, and that is the fact that Iva herself, on a personal level, already embodies the theme.
In other words, she is a foreign figure, part of a significant Albanian diaspora, which did not start in the last forty years but in the sixteenth century. We have an Albanian community in Italy that is perfectly integrated while maintaining its own culture and language. Then, from the 1990s onwards, we saw what happened; it is truly a country that already experiences the issue of being foreign. In the end, she was born there and raised here, so she is not entirely Italian, but not completely Albanian anymore either; she is truly a hybrid figure, which is why she fully embodies these ideals. Regarding the theme of sexuality, this is also the land where we are all foreigners, in a way. We know this because we have experienced it ourselves; it is that terrain where you constantly have to get to know the other and yourself, where you understand many things and at the same time many remain unknown.
So, in my opinion, the themes that Iva deals with are the extremisation of this concept of identity, self-knowledge, the knowledge of the other, and desire in its deepest intimacy. From a philosophical point of view, this aspect of being foreigners everywhere, being foreigners at any moment, emerges with the same strength as the themes of sexuality and love.
Returning more to the aesthetic imprint, and in relation to this role, are you inclined to privilege a visual expression able to disrupt the usual canons and themes, or to filter it by giving it a more delicate note?
Well, I am usually quite radical, so I always go quite hard on things, but it always depends on the case.
In my opinion, as curators, as critics, we must be able to understand the artist’s work, what it needs at that specific moment or in a broader perspective. In exhibitions, I perhaps deal more with the contingency of the moment, but when I write the texts, I worry that they can still be relevant in 40 years, in 50 years, in 80 years. I believe that every time it is necessary to understand whether it is best to step aside or be very present, and which aspects of the artist’s work to highlight. I like to push the envelope a bit; there are always some creative elements within the exhibitions I curate. Even in the case of the Albanian Pavilion, even though the setup is quite sober, there was still a very strong message that recontextualised everything. Every time is different; what is important to me is to ensure that the artist’s work emerges in all its complexities, ambitions, and ambiguities as well. Because the works of great artists are always very ambiguous and somewhat elusive, and I want this destabilising aspect to always come out. So, this is a bit my position; you really need to understand what is the best thing to do at that moment.
On the immediate future, are there any particular projects you can give us a preview of?
… There are two things I care a lot about… The first was on the first of June and it was a project in Jacopo Benassi’s studio, where we invited artists to work, to create site-specific works in the space, often including performances. Among these was the Canemorto collective, with whom I often work. The other project I care a lot about will be on the 21st of June. I am also the curator of the Luci d’artista project in Turin, and for the summer solstice, we will have an evening of performances with a group of poets and artists.
It will be a sort of doubling of a project that generally revolves around the winter solstice. In this case, however, it will be for the summer solstice and will be very ephemeral, it will revolve entirely around light, but through words, performances… definitely a project to watch and open to everyone.
Church Of All Images
Credits:
Curator: Antonio Grulli / @antonio_grulli
Interview: Annalisa Fabbrucci / @annalisa_fabbrucci
Editor: Maria Abramenko / @mariabramenko