Resulting from a meeting in 2022 between artist Michele Chiossi (Lucca, 1970), Neapolitan gallery owner Andrea Nuovo and art historian Fernanda García Marins, a Neapolitan by adoption, the solo exhibition Prolegomeni brings 17 works to the Neapolitan home gallery that create an enveloping visual journey. The visitor is guided through the exhibition space, from the ground floor along the staircase to the second floor, before reaching the threshold of the suspended garden, a surprising landscape opening. A multifaceted artist, Chiossi has been focusing his research on material and space for years, combining traditional techniques-marble, aluminum, bronze-with contemporary materials such as resins, PVC and silicone, to experimentation with light, from neon to LEDs. We met him on the occasion of the opening.
FM: Prolegomena. Why this title?
MC: I wanted to evoke an introduction, an opening to a broader discourse. A prelude that marks the beginning of an artistic research still in the making. The exhibition brings together works ranging from 1999 to more recent works, made especially for the occasion, tracing the evolution of my artistic journey.
The zigzag motif is a recurring stylistic feature in your work. Where did it originate?
In the 1990s I was hanging out with Alighiero Boetti, who used the grid of checked paper as the basis for his tapestries. That rigor deeply influenced me. I adopted the zigzag pattern in my drawings, metal and marble sculptures and marble paintings.
How have you reinterpreted it today?
Through sculpture and experimentation with materials. In Europe, for example, the zigzag pattern becomes a calligraphic swirl: a suspended steel sculpture that recalls ancient covenants and signatures. Treaties and agreements were in fact sealed precisely with signatures from the final calligraphic swirls. It is a message for present-day Europe, an invitation to new forms of union in a context marked by conflict and instability.
What other works are presented for the first time?
I have been working on new series, including curtain paintings or quadri-tenda, a meeting of painting and sculpture. I use different materials: brass castings, wood, marble, terracotta, steel, silver and lights.
Is there a conceptual thread linking this new production?
More than one: from Virgil’s poetry to Bachelard’s Réverie, via Calvino, Vesuvius, Flemish still lifes and the breath of the sea.
How did your interest in art come about?
Since childhood I have had a strong inclination for creation. My first “workshop” was the kitchen: puddings, pizzas, experimenting with matter. Then I directed this instinct toward sculpture.
What is your first creative memory?
When I was seven, with an ice cream machine, I spent an entire summer creating sweets using Tupperware molds. Already there was an idea of casts and reproduction. Later, with Theory of Colors, I recreated Michelangelo’s Pieta with layers of ice cream, exploring Goethe’s color theory.
You have already mentioned your formative period. What do you remember about those years?
My real formative period started around the age of 21-22, with my first trip to New York. I came from a provincial background: Lucca until high school, then Florence with the Academy. Milan, in the 1990s, still had a limited art scene. Thanks to magazines like Tema Celeste and Flash Art, I expanded my vision. New York was the center of art, so I decided to move there, between openings and meetings with artists.
An exhibition that particularly struck you?
The Italian Metamorphosis at the Guggenheim, curated by Germano Celant in 1994. It was an interdisciplinary exhibition on Italian art from 1943 to 1968, with Pascali, Manzoni, Olivetti and Fiat prototypes, and neorealist cinema. There were installations, projections, and, on the ground floor, Manzoni’s Il Socle du Monde. Above, Pascali’s Il Ponte.
Did you get a chance to reread Italianism from a different perspective?
Yes, especially observing how Italy was perceived in the United States. It struck me a lot, as did design and fashion. There was a fascinating design section at MoMA. I remember exhibitions by Bruce Nauman, Annette Messager and Sunday teas by Louise Bourgeois.
Have you visited artist studios in New York?
Among the first were Not Vital’s, which introduced me to the New York art scene, and Sandro Chia’s in Chelsea: a whole floor overlooking the Hudson.
What struck you about Chia?
The way of receiving and welcoming, typical of his generation. It was a less marketized era, with a more spontaneous, almost naïve approach.
Returning instead to today: which work by Prolegomeni do you consider most emblematic?
Masino, a sculpture born from my reflections on the Lecciona beach near Viareggio. There I collect woods returned from the sea after storm surges. One of them, a massive trunk of red pine, about five feet tall, struck me because of its smooth and fragrant shape.
How did you work on this log?
I washed it, removed the salt and sand, cleaned out the knots and cavities with chisels and drill. To bring the wood back to life, I used natural beeswax, polishing it by hand for months. The result is a wood that looks resined, but completely natural.
And the base?
It is marble, inspired by a classic column reinterpreted with three elements. During Covid, I thought a lot about Greek and Mediterranean culture. The symbolism of the column - stability, strength, concreteness - has returned often in my work. Here, it becomes organic, with a capital enhanced by brass details, exploded terracotta and silver casting.
The exhibition being in Naples, if you had to choose a number from the smorfia?
The 8, ’a Maronna (the Madonna).
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