newitalianblood

A place like the Rotonda di Via Besana is very familiar to me because, as I live close by, I often take my daughters there to play. The way I see the affective side of this place prevails over the aulic nature of the museum itself. And this is probably no coincidence, as I’ve almost always nurtured a loving relationship with the places where I’ve worked. To my mind, the privilege of being allowed to use space to tell stories is what makes all those of us who do this job so lucky. For every one of us our perception of the surrounding reality is getting flatter and flatter; we spend most of our time before surfaces that filter information in our direction, from the dashboard in the car to any TV or computer screen, often forgetting about the stuff we are made of. My work is made up of that very stuff: my spaces have skin and flesh, blood and the senses, and my objects are like Pinocchio, they might even tell a few lies, but they’re alive.