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 could be, 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 stage 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.