Bugo: I wanted to be a temporary artist. I tell you about my parenthesis

His real name is Cristian Bugatti, he was born in Rho in 1973 grew up in Cerano, and his stage name is Bugo: everyone knows him as an important singer-songwriter and musician (many consider him the father of Italianindie ), but not everyone knows that Bugo has also been a visual artist of the highest caliber, capable of bringing his works into important contexts. Bugo’s activity as a visual artist has a specific duration: from 2009 to 2014. Exactly five years for a kind of break from music with a predetermined duration: Bugo consciously decided to devote himself to art for only five years. But it was an intense period: his works were exhibited in all the main Italian fairs (Artissima, Miart and Arte Fiera), were part of group exhibitions in important contexts and alongside first-rate artists (for example, at the National Museum of Villa Guinigi in Lucca or at the Esprit Nouveau Pavilion in Bologna), received positive feedback from critics and in prestigious magazines. What’s more, Bugo has a dozen solo exhibitions to his credit, the first of which in 2009 at the Museo Faraggiana Ferrandi in Novara.

Bugo’s is a path that is not for everyone: many artists dream of getting to exhibit in the galleries, fairs and museums that Bugo, on the other hand, has frequented regularly. And he certainly has not been facilitated by fame: when he started his journey as a visual artist, Bugo was a musician with a large following, but far from popular. We therefore met him on the occasion of his concert at the Pecci Center in Prato (for the Pecci Summer Live 2020 billboard) and went over these five years of artistic activity with him, trying to understand the reason for this choice that may seem so bizarre and radical, and the motives behind his free and exploratory research. The interview is edited by Federico Giannini, editor in chief of Finestre sull’Arte.

Bugo (Cristian Bugatti)

FG. You became a visual artist relatively late, at the age of thirty-six. This is perhaps an obvious question, but it would be very interesting to know what prompted you to set aside music for a moment and experiment with different modes of expression. Because it’s a kind of experience that is not for everyone, in fact: as far as I’m concerned, I’ve never known of such experiences.
B. I’ve always called it a parenthesis, because in fact it was a parenthesis in my artistic journey: at a certain point I realized that the language of contemporary art could be suitable for me, who is a person who cannot paint and lacks special technical qualities. Kind of like in music: I have a vocal medium that I think is within the realm of normality, but I don’t consider myself a classical artist. When I moved to Milan in 1999, one of the first things that struck me about this world was Maurizio Cattelan’s The Ninth Hour-I think it all started from there. I had never had any interest in art, nor did I come from a family of artists or with artistic interests. Music itself came into my life in an unusual, nontraditional way, without following a family tradition. The same goes for art: it can be said that I first saw a live work of contemporary art in 2003, when I was 30 years old. I knew a few artists, starting with Andy Warhol, who fascinated me much more than the ancient painters or at any rate those more tied to classical languages, but I never thought I would start hanging out in this world and build a part of my career on it. Then at one point, in 2008, I was invited to do an exhibition in Novara, and I remember being a bit skeptical, even with the curator, Marco Tagliafierro, I had told him that ... I didn’t know how to do anything! But not only that: I also didn’t want to pass as one of the many musicians who, when they do exhibitions, exhibit the usual drawings or the usual paintings with impressionistic landscape, things I don’t like. Tagliafierro, however, liked my way of expressing myself, and I have him to thank for the fact that I was able to enter this world and I was able to exhibit my works for the first time, at the Museo Civico Faraggiana Ferrandi in Novara: but the thing that pleased me the most was not so much the exhibition itself, but the possibility that the curator could make me start a path in contemporary art, to me, who moreover is a musician. And the thing is not so obvious, because operations of this kind are always risky, and I myself was not fully convinced, I was afraid that the critics would crush my works. Instead, when I exhibited these first works of mine, especially the feathered bust, the reactions were positive, and they pushed me to continue the path.

A path that lasted only five years, by deliberate choice. I think that decision itself is in itself a work of art. But of works along this short path of yours there have been many, and all of them interesting. What was it that made you start this experience and close it having already in mind from the beginning what its duration would be?
When I started, I said to myself, “I want to try being a temporary artist.” The basic assumption is that you often hear that you are born an artist: I don’t believe that. As far as I’m concerned, I think I became one. And as I became one, I also thought that I was only doing it for a limited time, in this case five years: so I gave myself a set time, a period in which, between 2009 and 2014, with music I slowed down to devote myself full time to visual art, in which I exhibited my works in several shows, in which many collectors bought them. And at that time I was living off that.

Bugo, Untitled (2009; plaster, glass, sawdust, feathers, 31 x 56 x 33 cm)

And do you plan to reopen this parenthesis sooner or later?
No, at the moment it is a period that I consider closed. It is a closed chapter. And this idea of having entered the rooms of contemporary art and then coming out of them amuses me a lot. Then, of course, you can never say to stop something permanently, I don’t know what will happen in the future, it might well be. But now I don’t consider myself a visual artist anymore. Since 2014... I stopped. Although I also had solicitations, several collectors wanted to continue to buy my works and so they were pushing me to produce new ones. But I said no. I just wanted to break a taboo.

Do you continue to attend exhibitions, museums, fairs?
Not so much. I catch up on what I like. But this also applies to music. I’m not a big music connoisseur, I have my own idea of the concept of artist and singer and I get carried away by the moment, I don’t have an obsession with knowing who the latest top artists are or the most highly rated. I’m mostly interested in creating.

And speaking of the most important artists: if I asked you to point to someone, of the ancients, who inspired your art, which artists would you mention?
Caravaggio has always been one of my favorite artists. I’m going to sound trite because now Caravaggio has become a fashionable name that everyone likes, but what is often overlooked is the fact that Caravaggio, as much as he is looked at now as an ancient artist, at the time was as contemporary as could be: his was a language of rupture, as the language of a Dan Colen might be today, to give an example. Another “classical” artist I am inspired by is René Magritte. However, there are in ancient art some artists I love very much, but if I have to express myself, not being a painter nor a sculptor, I find that some contemporary languages have helped me express myself even without doing almost anything. Usually my works came from a sketch, from an idea, and I would ask for support in making it.

However, yours is also a language that refers back to the great “rupture” artists, as you called them: I think of the feathered bust you mentioned, I think of the bearded children, the performance I feel all eyes on me.
Often even I have no idea what my works mean. It’s like when people ask me what Casalingo, one of my songs, wants to say. I simply want to express an idea: in the case of the song, the fact that “being at home is something spectacular.” But then I like others to provide an interpretation of the work or song, because I like the idea of someone else making one of my works a little bit their own. That said, I don’t feel in conflict with other ways of making art, even with more classical languages. Even seemingly irreconcilable languages can run very well in parallel. Think of Cattelan himself, whose work is filled with quotations from ancient art. We are fortunate to live in an age in which even the most intangible contemporary art and art forms that are furthest removed from traditional means of expression, such as painting or sculpture, can fit into the history of art, and this fascinates me greatly, especially if we think of those who, like me, do not consider themselves “technicians,” academic artists. The same goes for music: just think that I have many detractors who say I can’t sing. And they are right! Because I am the first to say it: I am not a singer, I am someone who wants to express myself. So I try hard, and for 20 years I have been able to make this idea of mine a job.

Cristian Bugatti, Sento tutti gli occhi addosso (2010; performance)

Cristian Bugatti, Bearded Child (2010; photograph, 24 x 17 cm)

Many artists, at this stage in history, lament the absence of the state, or at any rate it is common to say that the state does little for contemporary art. You, who have been a visual artist and are a musician and therefore live from within this situation, what do you think?
I’m not very up to date on how much the state helps art, both ancient and contemporary art, but anyway, it’s not like the state has ever done much for art. And besides, the way I think about it, the state is a subject that is foreign to me in terms of the concept of “art.” We often use the word “culture,” a term that I dislike very little, I find it overused: as far as contemporary art is concerned, I think we cannot say today whether a given work can be part of that thing we call “culture,” because these are processes to be evaluated historically. Whether a work of art is culture we will be able to say perhaps in many years, in my opinion. Certainly, for example, I do not think art that panders to tastes or trends is interesting. Coming back to the point, if we think about what the state does for art we must first ask ourselves whether, today, the crisis we are going through is only an economic crisis, or is it not also, rather, a cultural crisis, a crisis of ideas. In history there have been periods of severe economic crisis but in which great artists have exploded. Therefore as an artist, on this front, I would not have any particular problems. Because I think the main occupation of artists is to create, no matter what conditions we are in. Even in times of extreme hardship an artist can produce great works of art.

Therefore, use the opportunity of a difficult historical moment to create. To conclude, then, since you mentioned the cultural crisis: do you think we are in a good time for art and music?
Being enthusiastic in character, I live my era with a lot of enthusiasm. I have never demonized Spotify or similar tools, I love vinyl just as much as I love streaming, in fact: I also consider myself lucky, because I can have both vinyl and streaming (which once was not there). In my opinion, we live in a very creative and very interesting time, both musically and in the visual arts: I am quite convinced that art and creativity actually never go completely into crisis. It is the outline that is in crisis, but the artist always makes art, a musician can compose a song even if he remains the last man on earth, creativity is innate in man, and that is what matters. Creativity is like breath: we cannot do without it.

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