Trough this interview we explore the deeper facets of the project that culminated in the formation of the Italian Pavilion at the 2024 Biennale. Luca Cerizza elucidates his personal vision and the realisation of curatorial practice, characterised by multiple encounters and a direct engagement with the sensory realm. As he himself notes, ‘It was probably music that led me to more avant-garde forms of contemporary art.’ Music, sound, and auditory perception, which are prominently featured in this project, have consistently been fundamental components of his work and an expression of a distinct curatorial identity.
Curatorial practice is a complex endeavour, requiring continuous synergy and recontextualisation. Reflecting on your career and previous projects before the Biennale 2024, how would you describe your personal approach? What are the distinctive traits or fundamental elements you consider essential? Are there any past or recent works to which you attribute particular significance, both in terms of importance and personal identification?
For the very first small exhibition I organised, I juxtaposed videos by American artists (such as Dan Graham, Mike Kelley, and Raymond Pettibon) with video clips of the post-punk band Sonic Youth, highlighting their relationships and collaborations. This was in 1996. A few years later, I invited three musicians and sound artists from the “minimal-electronica” or “glitch” genre (Ryoji Ikeda, Carsten Nicolai, Mika Vainio) to collaborate for the first time on a large-scale sound and light installation (2001). Music and sound have been integral to my work from the beginning, alongside the idea of interpreting the exhibition format as a tool for academic and critical work. This has also been reflected in my consistent activity as a writer and editor of publications, which are inseparable from my curatorial practice.. In this respect I have also organised exhibitions as opportunities to foster or stimulate new academic research and critical perspectives on somewhat historical positions. Examples include solo exhibitions on Kazuko Miyamoto (2014), Gianfranco Baruchello (2017), and Vincenzo Agnetti (2021-22: a sound-related project as well), as well as discursive formats such as the Alighiero e Boetti Day (2011).
However, I have also viewed exhibitions as spaces occupied by flows of energy and time, rather than merely by objects, or by objects (and bodies) that could encourage or enact a dynamic occupation of space—such as the first solo show by Tomás Saraceno in 2004 and another in 2014, even when using traditional media (e.g., the solo show by Prabhakar Pachpute in 2016). I see exhibitions as spaces where the conventions of certain exhibitions formats(e.g., the mid-career survey of Massimo Bartolini in 2022) or even what visual art might be questioned. My work on conceptual art and collaborations with Tino Sehgal in 2004 and again in 2018 are examples of this. To achieve this, I have often encouraged or employed forms of performativity in areas where visual art intersects with architecture, dance, and music. Although I have never been particularly interested in theatre, I suppose there is an element of theatre—or better, staging—in many of the exhibitions I have organised. Perhaps they serve as a platform for the audience to engage with a more dynamic concept of spectatorship.
Exploring the essence of the 2024 Biennale project, this is not about traditional musealisation techniques but rather an experiential concretisation aimed at capturing the immaterial and the conceptual. What were the purposes and highest ambitions you set from the outset? What are your thoughts on the overall result achieved? Do you believe the concept was well-received, or was there an element of misunderstanding?
When I invited Massimo Bartolini to be the sole artist in the project (although in collaboration with a number of musicians and writers), I believed that he/we would be able to manage the challenges posed by the vast and somewhat rough nature of the exhibition space, which often presents difficulties for artists and curators. We aimed to avoid any attempt to “musealise” the premises, as has often been the case. This choice was driven by both economic and ecological considerations. Based on our previous experiences together, particularly Massimo’s solo exhibition at Centro Pecci (Prato) which I co-curated in 2022, we believed it was possible to engage with the exhibition space without constructing any display structures, allowing the various installations to occupy these large volumes with their material and immaterial characteristics. Our goal was to create an immersive environment where sound and movement, through sonic and spatial stimulations, would set the tone—a journey through three different spaces as one physical and spiritual experience, with a multitude of possible trajectories. If I were to summarise something that was never consciously planned, the ambition was to define a space conducive to different forms of listening, where “listening” should be understood in the complexity of its physical and metaphorical (if not metaphysical?) dimensions. It was a space designed for (active) contemplation rather than (passive) consumption.
Regarding the reactions to the Pavilion, it is not for me to say, but I believe the project was very well received both in Italy and abroad. I am not aware of any major misunderstandings, apart from a couple of instances that attracted a lot of attention in the press. However, these were so factually off the mark that “misunderstanding” is a generous term to describe them. Perhaps my only regret is that the project has not yet been analysed in all its potential complexity by the press.
Finally, the greatest achievement we reached was perhaps engaging a significant part of the audience on an emotional level, even among those who had no prior knowledge of contemporary art or the project itself.
“I have often encouraged or employed forms of performativity in areas where visual art intersects with architecture, dance, and music.”
Delving into the specifics of the relationship and interaction you had with artists and collaborators, how did the selection process occur, and how were the various sections defined? Which distinctive aspects of your vision did you aim to implement, and which elements of the artists did you seek to highlight? What particularly struck you, and with each of them, was it a fluid and synergistic collaboration, or were there numerous experimental challenges?
A premise: as a curator, I am deeply interested in the dynamics of collaboration and editing, including the use of discursive forms that merge with educational and academic ones. I see exhibitions, especially large ones like this, as hyper-artworks that combine many works and formats in an extended form. In our respective fields, Massimo and I somehow share this vision. Therefore, the idea of including other artistic presences within the format of a solo exhibition was there from the outset, undoubtedly as a novelty in the history of the Italian Pavilion.
In inviting Massimo, I believed we had an opportunity to expand and deepen an already remarkable exhibition like the one at Pecci, hopefully reaching another level of complexity and certainly a larger audience, also through new artistic collaborators. While Massimo’s practice has always been based on different forms of collaboration, and our previous collaborations were often marked by a shared interest in music and sound, this time I encouraged him to elevate the quality of these artistic partnerships, ensuring they were younger and more gender-diverse. At the same time, I aimed to highlight the metaphorical facets of the sonic paradigm as an element that could resonate in different directions, particularly through the public programme accompanying the exhibition and the final publication. In retrospect, considering the limited time we had, I believe we took significant yet exciting risks in setting up multiple collaborations. While the process was at times tortuous, it was nonetheless remarkable to witness firsthand the talent of all the artists involved and the way they responded to our call and integrated with our vision. Although I am personally very pleased with the outcomes of these collaborations, I am also immensely grateful for the incredible professional and dedicated team we assembled for the project, starting with Francesca Verga, my assistant and a valuable partner since the early days of the project.
With reference to the overall theme of the 2024 Biennale, ‘Strangers Everywhere’, if you were to list the key elements or concepts that came to mind from the very beginning and on which the entire pavilion’s construction was based, what would they be? How do you believe the pavilion, starting from its title and continuing through every detail, fits into and integrates with this larger thematic core?
Considering that national pavilions don’t necessarily need to align with the curator’s concept for the Biennale, I believe a dialogue could be established on two levels. Firstly, this is the first Italian Pavilion where a number of non-Italian artists (musicians) have collaborated. Secondly, we believed that this project, and the experience visitors can have in the space, could resonate with them and, hopefully, encourage them to question the “stranger” hidden within themselves, to discover and, ultimately, come to terms with it.
“I see exhibitions, especially large ones like this, as hyper-artworks that combine many works and formats in an extended form.”
Remaining on the theme and the thread that ties each pavilion together, what aspects of our country did you wish to extract and contextualise in this project? What distinguishes it from the others?
A significant number of reactions highlighted the contrast between the Italian Pavilion and, in particular, the rest of the exhibition at the Arsenale. Many visitors experienced a different atmosphere and language when, after a long walk through the Arsenale, they entered the Pavilion and encountered what was likely a more rarefied atmosphere: less information and, perhaps, more… intonation. If you compare our project to the main exhibition, I believe it presented a rather different idea of what artistic language could be. When placed in dialogue with other pavilions, I noticed that, while it is impossible and inappropriate to discuss every case, sound and sonic effects are frequently present in a number of other national representations; however, they are often used merely as “effects.” In our case—much like in the Japanese Pavilion and in part of the German Pavilion—music and sound formed the sculptural and sonic body of the entire project, serving as a phenomenological, philosophical, social, and spiritual element. This aspect has also been explored through the rich public programme I organised in collaboration with Gaia Martino.
Following the selection of the project for the Italian Pavilion, there were some criticisms and reconsiderations regarding the clarity and immediacy of the concept. How did you handle and respond to this situation? What do you believe was the root cause of these concerns?
The Italian Pavilion always sparks controversy; it’s a bit like the national football team in that sense… However, direct criticism was limited to essentially one voice, while the project naturally aroused curiosity and even perplexity when we couldn’t reveal much about it and were forced to be elusive and vague. Initially, some commentators feared it would be an empty pavilion—a concern that ultimately proved to be unfounded.
Sound, its perception, and analysis play a fundamental, if not central, role in this exhibition journey. Did the study and experimentation related to this element represent a stimulating challenge for you? What do you think this project has left you with, and how do you believe it will reflect in your career and future projects?
As I mentioned, sound and music have held a special place in my curatorial practice from the outset, and I can even say that it was probably music that led me to more cutting-edge forms of contemporary art. While the past decade has seen a resurgence of sound-oriented practices in art institutions, Massimo and I have long been working in this direction within our respective roles. In recent years, I have increased the number of sound-related projects within the visual art context, rediscovering the pleasure of engaging with sound and music in my academic work as well. From this perspective, the Italian Pavilion project provided me with the wonderful opportunity to collaborate with musicians, critics, writers, thinkers, and performers in the sonic realm whom I greatly admire, including Caterina Barbieri, Kali Malone, Michelangelo Frammartino, David George Haskell, Brandon LaBelle, Valentina Magaletti, and Tiziano Scarpa, among others who were involved in various capacities in our project. Ultimately, it allowed me to explore certain interests and ideas related to sound and music that extend beyond them, reflecting a broader view of how we perceive the world.
Speaking of the near future, are there any specific projects you are currently working on or future plans that you can share some details about?
As I write these notes, our wonderful team, Massimo, and I are still heavily involved in the Pavilion project: the final episode of the public programme, three editorial projects (the music score edition, the record, and the final publication), and the closing event are still underway. However, I have also returned to some projects that I had put on hold when our application for the Italian Pavilion was selected: the curation of ‘Afghanistan’, a project by artist Farid Rahimi about the diaspora of his Afghan family, and the co-curation of the most comprehensive monograph on Japanese/New York-based artist Kazuko Miyamoto, a remarkable artist who has long been overlooked. Additionally, I am reviving another long-standing collaboration with Tomàs Saraceno on a public commission in Pisa. Now that I have moved back to Berlin (where my wife, Zasha Colah, is curating the next Biennale and where I lived for 15 years), I look forward to reconnecting with some old acquaintances while also getting to know younger figures. On the other hand, I am also very tempted to take some time to work on my archive and, particularly, on my texts, with the aim of envisioning a publication.
Due qui – To Hear
Credits:
Curator: Luca Cerizza / @lucacerizza
Project: Italian Pavilion Biennale 2024 / @duequi.tohear
Press & Communication: Lara Facco Press&Comm / @larafacco_press
Interview: Annalisa Fabbrucci / @annalisa_fabbrucci
Editor: Maria Abramenko / @mariabramenko