Ida Panicelli

  • Alberto Savinio

    An eclectic artist with many talents—music, writing, painting—Alberto Savinio fully inhaled the avant-garde climate of the early twentieth century. Born Andrea de Chirico in Athens in 1891, he studied music in Munich, then arrived in Paris in 1910. Adopting the name Alberto Savinio, he made his debut in 1914 with Les chants de la mi-mort (Songs of the Half-Dead), a dramatic poem and a suite for piano. For Guillaume Apollinaire, he was a “poet, painter, and playwright, similar to the versatile geniuses of the Renaissance.” One of Savinio’s most intimate paintings, Le rêve du poète (The Poet’s

  • Domenico Bianchi

    Domenico Bianchi is a secular alchemist. His research is conceptual, anchored to tutelary forefathers, all of them Italian: Gino De Dominicis, Jannis Kounellis, Mario Merz. He is especially indebted to Alighiero Boetti, from whom he has absorbed the ability to work within a given set of rules. When Bianchi started out in the Roman milieu of the early 1980s, the most pronounced trait of that post-Transavanguardia generation was what he calls “arrogance,” an excessive and bombastic attitude related to their reliance on certain colors, forms, and gestures. Bianchi takes inspiration from elsewhere—from

  • picks February 01, 2021

    Bruna Esposito

    Having previously explored the dangers of climate change through sound, odor, and taste, here Bruna Esposito turns her attention to an increasingly ubiquitous contraption once largely shunned in Italy, an object of both luxury and distrust: the air conditioner. The first installment in a cycle of exhibitions about sustainability, “Altri Venti - Ostro” raises questions about this appliance’s excessive energy consumption and the pollution wrought by the gases it emits (the show’s title borrows a word for the warm Mediterranean wind, and is to be followed by “Altri Venti - Scirocco,” “Altri Venti

  • Corinna Gosmaro

    In a 1966 interview on French television, Pier Paolo Pasolini speaks of a phrase from Provençal poetry. “The nightingale sings “ab joy,” for joy. But ‘joy,’ in the Provençal language of that time, had a particular significance, one of poetic raptus, of exaltation and poetic intoxication. Now this expression, ab joy, is perhaps the key expression of my entire production,” he says, since it represents “this sort of nostalgia for life, this sense of exclusion that, however, does not diminish the love of life but increases it.” Pasolini’s statement inspired Corinna Gosmaro’s series “Ab Joy” (all

  • interviews November 06, 2020

    Marzia Migliora

    Titled after English economist and demographer Thomas Malthus (1766–1834)—whose contentious prediction that the world’s population would grow more rapidly than its means of subsistence pointed to the limits of anthropogenic activity on our planet while also influencing social Darwinism and eugenics—Marzia Migliora’s “The Spectre of Malthus,” curated by Matteo Lucchetti at the Museo Arte Gallarate and on through December 13, explores the risks posed by the production system of industrial agriculture. This minimal installation makes its visual richness a secret: Nothing is revealed until the viewer

  • Tendai Mupita

    I can obsess over obsessive artists. And in Tendai Mupita’s exhibition “Kuedza Mudzimu nesengere” (whose title means something like “those who are willing to take dangerous risks”), I let myself wander among the labyrinthine lines of his large-scale drawings, inspecting his curvilinear ink webs as closely as I would Agnes Martin’s geometric pencil marks—though the work of the two artists could hardly be more different.

    Mupita, born in Harare, Zimbabwe, in 1990, studied fine art some seventy miles away from his hometown at Chinhoyi University of Technology, where he did research on fractals,

  • picks August 13, 2020

    Paolo Canevari

    The “materia oscura” that gives this show its title is Paolo Canevari’s medium itself: inner tubes and tires for tractors and trucks, cars, Vespas, and go-carts. The material, inert and poor, rough and dirty, is in his hands transformed into pliable sculptures of bitter, enigmatic beauty. In his three-decade exploration of the formal and affective properties of rubber, Canevari has created tanks and bombs, monoliths and Colosseums, revealing himself to be a worthy heir to a generation of Roman artists from the ’60s who worked between nature and artifice, such as Pino Pascali and Gino Marotta.


    PARIS, JUNE 1981. Germano Celant and I are drinking at a bar after the opening of his exhibition “Identité italienne. L’art en Italie depuis 1959” (Italian Identity. Art in Italy Since 1959) at the Centre Pompidou. He points to a young woman on a banquette, engaged in intense conversation. “That’s Ingrid Sischy, the new editor of Artforum,” he said. “I’ll introduce you.” That introduction transformed my life.

    Germano and Ingrid changed the magazine forever. They were perfect partners, truly phenomenal, each bringing out the best in the other. She: street-smart, a voracious consumer of the present

  • “Dancing at the Edge of the World”

    Ten brave female-identifying artists put the body—and its empowerment—at the center of this provocative show, curated by Marcelle Joseph and inspired by the gentle feminist utopia in Ursula K. Le Guin’s 1989 book Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places. Observing how the body clashes with social mechanisms, these young artists analyzed the dichotomies and contradictions of gender identity and the oppressive strategies of the patriarchal system with a critical gaze in a wide variety of mediums. The approaches range from Megan Rooney’s domestic portraits immersed in

  • picks March 11, 2020

    Sabina Mirri

    In the four collages and pastels on rice paper included in Sabina Mirri’s latest rabbit hole of a show, “Gonna be a cult character,” an epicene and anthropomorphized white hare appears in scenes of indecent leisure. In one collage, our leporid seducer lies recumbent on a grass-green chaise longue, sporting high heels and suspenders while displaying its (male) sexual organ, puffing a cigar, and imbibing its favorite gin. In another, under the spell of a large spliff, it shows small breasts and large hips. As utterly strange as the March Hare and perhaps a cousin to Joseph Beuys’s famous dead

  • Pat Steir

    For the past year and a half, a beautifully illustrated German book has been sitting like a totem on Pat Steir’s worktable. Werner Spillmann’s Farb-Systeme 1611–2007 (2009) details a wide range of color theories and color wheels invented over the centuries, from Isaac Newton’s scientific studies on light, to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s studies of color and mysticism, to Paul Klee’s and Le Corbusier’s experiments. (Only one woman’s efforts are included.) But Steir is not fluent in German. The inspiration she has taken from that silent oracle has been entirely visual: no theories, just colors,

  • Fiamma Montezemolo

    Fiamma Montezemolo, an Italian-born artist based in San Francisco, has a background in anthropology, and her six years of fieldwork in Tijuana, Mexico, starting in 2001, gave her a clear sense of life along the frontera. In this exhibition, “Entanglements,” curated by Matteo Lucchetti, she explored frontier regions as delicate as human skin or as intangible as the liquid borders in the Mediterranean Sea in order to find images for the marginalization and oppression of otherness as a paradigm that has been repeated at different historical moments. The show’s title not only refers to the phenomenon,