Author: fondazione

ROMETTI: THE CONTEMPORARY LANGUAGE OF A CENTURY-OLD MANUFACTOR

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Ceramiche Rometti was founded in 1927 in Umbertide, from the vision of master ceramicist Settimio Rometti together with his nephews Aspromonte Rometti and Dante Baldelli. One year from the significant milestone of its hundredth anniversary, the Umbrian manufactory continues to celebrate and interweave artisanal knowledge with artistic research: an identity built over time through a coherent language, capable of crossing different eras and interpreting the ideas of many creative minds, all while remaining true to itself.
In 2012 Rometti was acquired by entrepreneur Massimo Monini, who relaunched its vision by bringing it back to its artisanal roots and opening it to an ever closer dialogue with contemporary design, alongside artistic director Jean-Christophe Clair, a key figure in translating collaborations with designers and artists into projects that can be concretely realized in ceramic. In this interview, Monini himself recounts the evolution of Rometti’s savoir-faire toward an increasingly contemporary language, projected into the future.

Rometti is approaching its hundredth year of history. How did the manufactory come about, and what was the turning point that brought you where you are today?
The historic Rometti manufactory was founded in Umbertide in 1927 from the vision of Settimio Rometti, and in a year we will celebrate an extraordinary milestone: a hundred years of history. More than an anniversary, for us it represents confirmation of a vision that has managed to cross time while remaining true to itself.
When I took over the company in 2012, Rometti was going through a complex phase. But I saw an extraordinary heritage: a unique history, an irreplaceable artisanal knowledge, and a strong identity that simply needed to be brought out. The choice was not to pursue mass production, but to bring Rometti back to its roots, investing in quality and in collaborations with the world of design.

What role do the territory and the material play in Rometti’s identity?
Rometti is deeply Umbrian. In almost a hundred years, entire generations of families have worked within the manufactory, passing down skills, gestures, and sensibilities that cannot be learned from books. At the same time, our relationship with the territory is still closely tied to the material we use: clay from an ancient Etruscan quarry, bathed by the banks of the Tiber.
Our territory has also taught us the value of time, patience, and quality. Umbria is a land where making has always been closely linked to culture and art, and we are a natural expression of that. At the same time, we don’t see ourselves as custodians of an unchanging tradition; we believe the best way to honor it is to let it evolve — we continue to use historic techniques while constantly putting them in dialogue with the language of contemporary design.

What are the main sources of inspiration for your collections?
Inspiration is born from the encounter between memory and contemporaneity.
On one hand there is our history: the legacy left by great artists such as Corrado Cagli and Dante Baldelli, the iconic atmospheric stripes, the Nero Fratta black, the research into color that has made Rometti recognizable around the world.
On the other hand there are contemporary languages — art, architecture, fashion, and of course the ongoing exchange with designers from different cultures.
The Umbrian landscape, too, continues to exert a strong influence: the colors of the earth, the light, the hills, the atmospheres.

Which processes and elements best express Rometti’s artisanal knowledge, and why do these specifically define your identity?
The potter’s wheel is certainly one of the techniques that most represents Rometti. Every form is born from the hands of the ceramicist, and it is precisely this direct relationship with the clay that gives each piece a unique identity. Alongside the shaping of the form, another fundamental element is decoration, which for us is not a simple finishing touch but an integral part of the design.
A significant example is the collection created in 2018 with Ugo La Pietra, or the collaboration with Louis Bottero, the young French street artist, for the 2026 collection.

How do you choose the designers and collaborators you work with, and how, in practice, is the dialogue between their vision and your savoir-faire built?
We choose people who share the same idea of beauty that we do.
In this process, the role of our artistic director, Jean-Christophe Clair, has been and continues to be fundamental. He is the one who builds the bridge between the designer’s or artist’s vision and our savoir-faire, translating an idea into a project that can be concretely realized in ceramic — without compromising its expressive force, and at the same time valuing the skills of our craftspeople.
For us every collaboration must be a dialogue between the designer’s vision and artisanal experience. It is from this balance that the best projects are born.

Could you tell us about some of the collaborations you consider most representative of this balance?
We have had the honor of working with personalities from very different creative worlds, and it is precisely this cross-pollination that represents one of Rometti’s riches.
With Rossy De Palma, a dialogue was born between art, personality, and irony. Her ability to turn her own identity into expressive language translated into objects with a strong scenic presence, perfectly in tune with the character of our manufactory.
The collaboration with Roberto Capucci was instead a natural encounter between haute couture and high craftsmanship. His sculptural forms, sense of volume, and research into color found in ceramic a surprising expressive medium.
With Ugo La Pietra, a master of Italian design, we developed a reflection on the relationship between object, architecture, and domestic space.
The collaboration with Kenzo Takada represented an extraordinary encounter between Japanese aesthetic sensibility and Italian artisanal culture, giving rise to collections marked by great formal balance and extraordinary decorative richness.

The project “Le Mani d’Oro” — born from the shared vision of Fondazione Cologni dei Mestieri d’Arte and The Place of Wonders, published by Librì progetti educativi — places the transmission of artisanal knowledge at its center. Rometti’s story is included among the ten exemplary stories aimed at younger generations. What does this theme mean for Rometti, and what role do you see for young people in craftsmanship today?
The “Le Mani d’Oro” project is particularly meaningful because it tells something that too often remains invisible: the value of the people and the skills behind objects. When you look at a finished work, you tend to see only the result, while behind it lies a heritage of gestures, knowledge, and sensibility built over decades of experience.
I believe that today artisanal knowledge is one of the most precious cultural assets we have. It’s not just about knowing how to make things, but also a way of thinking about work: with patience, responsibility, precision, and respect for the material. If we lose these skills, we also lose an important part of our cultural identity.
For this reason, the transmission of knowledge has been one of our goals since I joined the company, and the Rometti Prize — an international project dedicated to young artists and designers, launched in 2013 — shows how much this theme matters to us.
To young people I would say that craftsmanship does not belong to the past. On the contrary, it represents one of the most contemporary languages that exist. In a world dominated by uniformity and speed, uniqueness, time, and quality have become increasingly sought-after values.

ROMETTI
Via Canavelle, 5
Umbertide, PG
+39 075 9413266
rometti@rometti.it
www.rometti.it

ANTONIETTA MAZZOTTI EMALDI: “MY CERAMICS PUSH THE MATERIAL TO THE LIMITS OF THE POSSIBLE”

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Among the leading voices in contemporary Faentine ceramics, Antonietta Mazzotti Emaldi speaks about the exhibition project she will present in Florence on the occasion of Artigianato e Palazzo (11–13 September 2026), the thirty-second edition of the now historic showcase of high craftsmanship held in the Corsini Garden and its evocative spaces. Realised as part of the contemporary patronage project La Grande Bellezza. The Dream Factory, promoted by Starhotels in collaboration with Fondazione Cologni and Gruppo Editoriale, the exhibition brings together works from her most recent collections in a journey that weaves together classical elegance, formal research, and technical experimentation, pushing the ceramic medium to the limits of its expressive possibilities.

How did you receive the invitation from Fondazione Cologni to take part in the Starhotels La Grande Bellezza project?
When I was contacted by Fondazione Cologni, I was deeply moved. I participated in the first edition of Artigianato e Palazzo in 1995 and in the ten editions that followed, and I hold a wonderful memory of Donna Giorgiana Corsini, who personally invited me that first time. I watched this event come into being, then life took me elsewhere. Being able to return to Palazzo Corsini in a new guise carries a special meaning. During the years I exhibited there, I presented the classical Faentine majolicas of my Manifattura — traditional forms and decorations, executed faithfully and to the highest standard. Then my academic training — in sculpture and modelling — swept me away. While keeping the production of classical artistic majolicas active, I personally left tradition behind to devote myself to my own artistic expression.

What will you bring to Florence?
To Palazzo Corsini I will bring four collections, united by a single stylistic leitmotif: white and gold.
There will be Proserpina, a line dedicated to pomegranates and their blossoms, symbols of abundance, already selected in 2024 for the third edition of Homo Faber, held at the Fondazione Giorgio Cini in Venice.
I will present Survival — vase-sculptures made in 2022 to mark the fiftieth anniversary of my activity. I cast the bark of the trees in the park of Villa Emaldi — sequoias and other century-old specimens that have withstood wars, storms, and lightning. It is also a synthesis of my life: fifty years as a ceramicist and mother of three children, in a traditionally male Italian environment where a woman with artistic ambitions does not have an easy time. The resilience of those trees is also mine.
The exhibition will also include Faience Garden, a project born in 2024 from my participation in the Starhotels La Grande Bellezza competition: the aim was to propose a Souvenir d’Italie object representing the territory’s tradition in a contemporary key. I chose to start from the carnation — Faenza’s most celebrated decoration, rendered by now in every conceivable variation. I reinterpreted it in relief, in white and gold.
Finally, I will present Menadi, my most recent collection, inspired by the bacchantes, the women who follow Dionysus’s retinue: transgressive figures wrapped in billowing veils, like those of Botticelli’s Venus. I sought to render that lightness in ceramics — a material that is anything but light — through geometric white vases adorned with swirling flourishes in pure gold leaf.

On the subject of transgression: Ugo La Pietra used precisely that word in relation to your work. What does it mean to you?
That word is not accidental, and La Pietra has grasped an important aspect of my work: I push the material to the limits of the possible. Making these swirling flourishes hold around the majolica vases, keeping them in position, demands an exceptionally high level of technical skill. The same is true of the bark pieces: they are beautiful, but the casts are complex and must hold their balance. My ceramics are not easy to execute. In my case, transgression is technical.

What remains of the Faentine tradition in your recent output?
The pursuit of beauty. Faentine majolica has a centuries-long tradition, from the fourteenth century to the present day, and its defining quality is excellence, perfection, elegance. My masters taught me that Faenza ceramics must be beautiful: even the humblest Faentine kept his little plate in the display cabinet of the sitting room. Our ceramics have always been regarded as precious, and it is that preciousness that keeps me bound to tradition.

Could one say that you have “renewed” that tradition?
Yes, because I had a serious education: an arts diploma at the renowned Ballardini — the institute for ceramic art — then the Academy of Fine Arts. I have studied all my life and remain culturally active to this day. After the years of classical production, I returned, rather, to my contemporary training. My husband has a passion for ancient ceramics, so I have always looked to originals: personally formulating my own glazes and pigments, never using commercial products. Then, after a few decades, I took my passion back in hand and began doing what I truly wanted, while preserving the elegance that is typical of Faenza.

The Starhotels prize is called “La Grande Bellezza.” You have spoken of beauty as the hallmark of Faentine production. What is beauty, for you?
It is a difficult concept, often subjective. For me, beauty is something that stirs an emotion, and it is also perfection: many people say that ugliness is beautiful, and I find that somewhat hard to accept. Today, for instance, textural ceramics are very widespread: I understand they may have their appeal, and I would not presume to judge, but my Faentine training has taught me something different. Ceramics must be smooth, perfect, elegant. My concept of beauty remains tied to good taste — an indispensable quality that makes something pleasing to the eye and capable of moving you.

Where does your inspiration come from?
From nature and from myth. The last few years have been the most fertile. During the lockdown, at the time of the Dante commemorations, I created Le frutte del mal orto, a collection inspired by an episode from medieval tradition connected to the figure of Manfredi and the history of Manfredian Faenza. That work marked a turning point towards the contemporary.
Pomegranates for Proserpina, bark for Survival, carnations for Faience Garden, golden flourishes for Menadi: nature and classical mythology are my guiding threads.

You run workshops at Villa Emaldi and often involve young people in your practice. How important is the transmission of craft knowledge?
I enjoy teaching: when an intern arrives, they must follow their own path, and one has to guide them. I entered at eleven and left at nineteen; we attended school morning and afternoon. Those were different times, but it worked. Today we have 3D printers, which are wonderful, yet manual dexterity is often lacking. We must help young people to work with their hands: it is the only true service to the mind.

ANTONIETTA MAZZOTTI

Manifattura Artistica Maioliche di Faenza
Villa Emaldi, via Firenze, 240 – Faenza (RA)

Store
C.so Matteotti, 2 – Faenza (RA)

info@ceramichemazzottiemaldi.com
ceramichemazzottiemaldi.com
instagram.com/antoniettamazzotticeramica

 

GIANLUIGI BERTOZZI: MATRIX, GESTURE AND SURFACE

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For over a century, the Bertozzi Print Workshop in Gambettola, in the province of Forlì-Cesena, has represented excellence in rust printing, a manual technique rooted in Romagna, according to some, since the time of Julius Caesar and his centurions. Between historical reality and legend, the basic ingredients have always been the same: a pear wood block, a dye with a secret recipe, and a fabric to be decorated. Everything else is creativity, but entirely at the service of craftsmanship. Gianluigi Bertozzi, grandson of the founder, tells us the story of the family workshop, the techniques of the craft, and the idea of applying the same technique and gestures to other materials. Without jealousy or secrets, because “the difficult part is not looking, but learning how to do it.”

Who founded the Bertozzi Print Workshop?
The Bertozzi Print Workshop is the result of my grandparents’ meeting in 1920. My grandfather Luigi, known as Gigein, was a wood carver and furniture decorator, a sculptor of wood; my grandmother Caterina, on the other hand, was a dressmaker and the daughter of a dyer, Ernesto known as Mega. It was from her family that the rust colour recipe came, at the time kept almost secret. In Romagna, at that time, it was not possible to obtain industrial dyes, and rust printing represented a craft tradition deeply rooted in the territory.

How did the tradition of rust printing begin?
It is said to have Roman origins and, although there is no definitive historical proof, it is a fascinating suggestion. We are in Gambettola, in the Rubicone valley, the land of Julius Caesar’s famous “alea iacta est”. It is documented that Vitruvius already spoke of a “martial dye”, that is, obtained from oxidised iron, and I like to imagine that Roman soldiers observed how rust from weapons left traces on linen tunics. From those stains, the idea may have arisen to transform rust into decoration, perhaps by centurions who put down their weapons to become farmers on lands gained in war, like the centurion Gambettola. It is a legend, of course, but it well conveys the spirit of Romagna: swords turned into ploughs and camp tents into banquet tablecloths.
The use of wooden blocks for printing, instead, is a technique widespread in many cultures. In Europe it was common until the nineteenth century, with important centres in Provence, the Como area, England and Austria. After industrialisation, however, this tradition survived almost only in Romagna, where it has remained until today, becoming an identity craft. During the Fascist period there was strong promotion of applied arts and traditional production, and my grandfather took part in fairs and craft events, such as the Triennale in Milan. Thanks to his skill in drawing and carving, he came into contact with designers and architects of the time, in the early years of what would become Italian design.

Does your large archive of patterns and blocks go back to your grandfather?
Our archive of wooden blocks reflects our history. It is an eclectic archive, built over more than a hundred years of work: it gathers traditional drawings, classical motifs, geometric patterns, Art Deco influences, modernist suggestions, and contemporary collaborations. We have never had a single stylistic direction. We have always been craftsmen, serving the requests and ideas of clients, designers and artists we worked with.

What has been your contribution to the workshop?
I have an artistic background, and my contribution continues the experimental openness already present in my grandfather’s work, but today there is inevitably also a new attention to communication and materials, and all these aspects are interconnected. For example, in the last twenty years we have also begun working on porcelain, on which it is much easier to perceive the handmade nature of the process: the mould leaves a clear three-dimensional imprint, making the relationship between matrix, gesture and surface more immediately legible.
At the core of our technique is block printing: carved wooden matrices are inked, manually pressed onto the material, and then beaten with a mallet. On porcelain or clay the gesture changes slightly, but the craftsmanship remains identical. Manual printing preserves characteristics that cannot be replicated industrially: subtle vibrations, irregular edges, variations in colour density.

The workshop also has an exclusive colour-fixing technique. How does it work?
In the 1990s we developed a steam-fixing system inspired by industrial textile technologies from the Como area. It is not patented, but a technique we use exclusively in manual printing. This allows us to work with eco-friendly dyes and achieve high resistance even on fabrics intended for everyday use.
Today we print cotton, linen and hemp, but also silk, wool and cashmere, always maintaining the same base technique. The strength of block printing lies precisely in its flexibility: we can print heavy fabrics such as terry cloth or velvet, but also very light silks. And by using small repeated modules, we can create very large surfaces without industrial systems.

What philosophy guides your collaborations?

We have always worked with designers and artists in a very spontaneous way, without a rigid structure. Each new design becomes part of the archive and continues to coexist with historical ones. We have also collaborated with major fashion houses such as Gucci, Balenciaga and Chanel, often behind the scenes, as is typical in craft subcontracting work.
At the same time, there are more continuous collaborations, such as with artist Mattia Vernocchi, with whom we developed the porcelain project, or with other artists like Francesco Bocchini and designers who have worked directly in our workshop.

In the workshop you also host collaborators and trainees, as is currently the case with a young craftswoman from the “Una Scuola, Un Lavoro” project by Fondazione Cologni. Aren’t you protective of your secrets?

The workshop is still a family-run reality. My father, who is 85, still comes to the workshop every day to print. My wife manages the commercial and administrative side, and the whole family participates in different ways in the life of the business.
In craftsmanship there has always been a certain secrecy around know-how, but I believe that in the present time we must do the opposite: collaborate, open up, teach. There are few of us left, and without transmission these skills risk disappearing. In our workshop there are no real “secrets”: anyone who visits can see everything. The difficult part is not looking, but learning how to do it. It takes years of experience to acquire the gesture, sensitivity and rhythm of manual work.
For this reason we strongly believe in training, internships and relationships with schools. We also believe in collective work among the remaining print workshops in Romagna. Today there are about ten of us, gathered in the Association of Hand Printers of Romagna, of which we are founding members. It is an important network, because alone it is difficult to preserve and pass on such a fragile heritage.

STAMPERIA BERTOZZI
Largo Marino Maestri, 50
Gambettola, FC
info@stamperiabertozzi.it
www.bertozzi.store

ANDREA BOUQUET: AT THE EDGE OF THE WOODS

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In the Pinerolo valleys, in a workshop on the edge of the forest, Andrea Bouquet shapes wood into refined, distinctive small pieces of furniture inspired by the natural landscape and rural architecture. After many years working in the restoration of antique wooden objects, the cabinetmaker embarked on a personal path, developing an original language that combines mastery of traditional techniques with an innate graphic sensibility and a keen attention to material. On the occasion of Doppia Firma 2026, he spoke to us about his craft and artistic research, which unfolds in a liminal space – much like his workshop – between technique and instinct, contrast and balance, rigor and play.

Andrea-Bouquet-ebanisteria-torino-ritratto

What has your professional path been?
I wanted to be a woodworker from a very young age. I don’t come from an artistic family, but as a child my father often took me to the workshops of artisans in the valleys where I still live. He would visit friends, and I would wander around, observe, tinker. Then, during middle school, my parents sent me to work in a workshop over the summer. I had decided to enroll in an art institute far from home, where I would have to stay all week, and understandably they wanted me to be sure of my choice. That experience confirmed it: I attended art school, specializing in woodworking, and later took advanced courses in wood restoration, which at the time I considered the most fascinating field. For about ten years I worked in several workshops, restoring furniture and even complex wooden structures, and eventually, in 2004, I opened my own restoration studio.

Today, however, you no longer work in restoration – why is that?
After 2007, the antiques sector went into a severe crisis. This was partly due to changing trends, but probably also to the bursting of a speculative bubble: 17th- and 18th-century furniture had reached unsustainable prices, and the market collapsed. Within a matter of weeks, I found myself without work – every client called to say they had nothing left to commission.

What did you do then?
I never considered changing profession – I simply continued doing what I knew how to do, but differently. I had just bought a house, so I began by making furniture for myself, using almost exclusively reclaimed wood I had accumulated over the years: old floors, beams, barrels, wine vats. I used what I had, with simple techniques and a pared-down style. From there, little by little, requests came from friends and acquaintances, word spread, and over time I began to develop a more personal language. I reactivated skills I had acquired through restoration but had never yet applied to my own pieces: traditional cabinetmaking techniques, classic joinery, marquetry. I started creating furniture that felt more truly mine, working instinctively.

How does one of your pieces come into being?
My workshop is at the edge of the forest – the last house in the hamlet; beyond it there are only trees. Nature is certainly my primary source of inspiration. I’m interested in the forms of trees, but also in human intervention in these settings: stone houses, roofs, the details of rural architecture integrated into the landscape. I also find inspiration through travel – I’m thinking, for example, of the Walser constructions in Valsesia – and more generally I’m drawn to anything that arises from the meeting of natural elements and human intervention, as long as there is rigor, coherence, and sensitivity.

Do you start from function, form, or material?
I almost never start from the material: I first imagine a form, a dimension, and then choose the most suitable wood based on grain, texture, and color. At the moment, I’m very interested in the overall chromatic vision, in contrast – or even the absence of contrast – between materials. As for functionality, it is never my primary criterion, but it remains essential. I’m not interested in completely useless objects. Even if small or minimal, an object must serve a purpose.

Does this strong aesthetic research relate to your passion for graphic design?
Yes, probably. In my work I try to combine the rigor of graphic design – made of modules, repetitions, patterns – with more natural, organic, almost anthropomorphic forms. My inlays are composed of small repeated elements set alongside more organic volumes. It’s a combination that fascinates me.

What draws you to graphic design?
It’s a passion also nourished by my background in restoration. I worked for a long time on Baroque furniture from the 17th and 18th centuries, objects with a very strong decorative component – a kind of bold, almost overpowering graphic language, very different from contemporary design. In a sense, I “stripped down” that almost punk-like language, retaining its main lines and turning it toward something more essential. I then became interested in textile patterns – houndstooth, herringbone – and applied them to forms that echo the Baroque. These are seemingly distant elements that seek balance in my work.

This year you were among the protagonists of Doppia Firma, Fondazione Cologni’s project that brings together design and craftsmanship: how did the exchange with designer Arthur Arbesser enrich you?
Dialogue, exchange – these are things I’m naturally inclined toward. Working with Arthur was very positive: his graphics and patterns are incredibly interesting. We didn’t talk much, but we truly listened to each other. From that dialogue came the small cabinet Scacco Matto. It wasn’t easy to make – translating a two-dimensional design into a three-dimensional object involves many technical complexities – but it was stimulating, and also fun. For me, enjoyment is essential: it’s precisely in that space, between design and making, between rigor and freedom, that the work truly takes shape.

ANDREA BOUQUET
Borgata Ciardossina, 10
Villar Perosa (TO), Italy
info@andreabouquet.it
www.andreabouquet.it

RENATO OLIVASTRI: THE KNOWLEDGE THAT ENDURES

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In the heart of Florence, among streets that for centuries have safeguarded an extraordinary concentration of crafts, Renato Olivastri’s workshop still preserves the rhythm and atmosphere of traditional artisanal work. A restorer and marquetry artist, Olivastri has built his career through hands-on practice, moving across cabinetmaking, restoration, and teaching, in a continuous dialogue between tradition and the transmission of knowledge—an approach that earned him, in 2024, the title of MAM – Maestro d’Arte e Mestiere from the Fondazione Cologni dei Mestieri d’Arte. Specializing in the restoration of Boulle furniture, he has developed a deep knowledge of materials and techniques, combining his workshop activity with many years of teaching experience. Today, alongside the rigor of restoration, he explores a more personal and expressive dimension, where marquetry becomes a field of creative research.

Maestro, can you tell us about the beginnings of your artisanal life?
I don’t come from a family of artisans, but I started working with my hands very early on: at fourteen, I was already in a a bespoke cabinetmaking workshop, a structured environment yet deeply rooted in traditional techniques. I devoted about ten years to this craft. Then, out of passion but also a bit by chance, I approached restoration. It was the 1980s, and thanks also to meeting the woman who would become my wife, I discovered Florence and its schools. At twenty-four, I decided to change my life: I moved here to study restoration and began working in the workshop of my master, Amleto Cipriani.
From then on, my path developed entirely in this field. I soon became involved in teaching as well, at the Palazzo Spinelli school, and by the age of twenty-eight I found myself passing on what I had learned. Today I can say that my professional life has unfolded between the workshop and education.

What relationship do you see today between theoretical training and workshop practice?
Today, becoming a restorer requires a highly structured theoretical path, through schools and universities. This is an important framework, but it risks leaving direct workshop experience in the background—which, for me, was fundamental. When I arrived at school, I already had years of manual work behind me, and that helped enormously. I knew well the generation of artisans before mine: they were extraordinary people who sometimes had little theoretical knowledge but could do incredible things.

To whom will you pass on your workshop and your knowledge?
My son tried to follow in my footsteps: he worked with me in the workshop for three or four years, he was passionate and truly skilled. But today, to continue, a formal path and qualifications are required, and at a certain point he chose a different direction.
In truth, it won’t be my workshop that survives me. I see it clearly: along this street I’ve already seen many workshops close. What will endure is knowledge. Over many years of teaching, I have trained many young people, some truly outstanding, who have gone on to open their own businesses. I think, for example, of Takafumi Mochizuki, a Japanese craftsman of extraordinary talent who became well known in Florence under the name Zouganista: here he found fertile ground to nurture his passion and developed a unique sensibility, becoming, in my view, a true “goldsmith of wood.” This is the most important passage: not so much leaving behind a workshop, but transmitting a craft. Even today I continue teaching, here in the workshop and at school, to Italian and international students who arrive with the desire to learn.

You specialize in the restoration of Boulle furniture, a very rare and complex field. What does it mean today to work on these objects?
Boulle furniture involves a very particular technique, as it combines different materials—metal, mother-of-pearl, resins, and in the past also tortoiseshell and ivory—and requires in-depth knowledge of each. Every element must be prepared, shaped, adapted, and then assembled with the others. It is a long process, which is becoming increasingly rare, also due to the crisis in the antiques market: both the objects themselves and major restoration projects have decreased. Restoration has also changed: it used to be more radical, whereas today the approach is more conservative, intervening as little as possible to ensure the stability and legibility of the piece. In many cases, the aim is to halt deterioration rather than return the object to a “perfect” condition. Creative freedom is limited—unless one moves to another level, closer to design, where it becomes possible to reinterpret the past and give new life to objects.

After many years in restoration, did you feel the need for a more creative space?
Yes, it’s a need that has grown over time. About fifteen years ago, I began creating something of my own, for pleasure, and gradually I realized I was too bound to the frameworks of restoration—to a very strong cultural background, but also, in a sense, a limiting one. Today I feel the need to “loosen up,” to step beyond those boundaries and seek greater expressive freedom. I am not a designer, but I am deeply fascinated by contemporary language: I often find more inspiration in contemporary art and design than in the antiques world, which was my world for many years.
My field of experimentation has become marquetry: I try to move beyond traditional schemes, to make the work freer and more personal. In recent years, I have also begun mixing different materials—for example, combining wood with cathedral glass from stained-glass windows—in order to push beyond the boundaries of the craft. Ultimately, what I seek is an emotion: something that truly feels like mine and that can resonate with others.

What future do you see for Florentine workshops?
When I arrived, there were fifteen workshops on this street; today, only three remain. It’s a clear change, one that reflects how much the context of craftsmanship has evolved.
Florence has always been a capital of crafts, with an extraordinary concentration of knowledge. Perhaps more could have been done to accompany this transformation and support artisanal work, also by making it more sustainable from a bureaucratic and fiscal point of view. Ours is a profession grounded in the hands: it cannot follow the logic of mass production. It requires time, care, and continuity.
And yet, interest has not disappeared. I can say this with conviction: many young people approach it with passion and a desire to learn.
I am glad to still represent a presence on this street. My workshop has remained as it once was: a lived-in space, marked by time. Sometimes I think about changing it, modernizing it, but then I realize it would lose something. It would no longer truly be a workshop.

RENATO OLIVASTRI
Via dei Velluti, 21R
Firenze – ITALIA
+39 329 2581297
renato@olivastrirestauri.com
www.olivastrirestauri.com

Tommaso Pestelli: balance between nature & artifice

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A fourth-generation member of an important Florentine goldsmith dynasty, appointed MAM – Maestro d’Arte e Mestiere by the Fondazione Cologni dei Mestieri d’Arte in 2020, Tommaso Pestelli has forged a personal path that has enabled him to broaden the horizons of his family’s historic workshop. He began with himself and with his innate vocation to seek, in objects, the balance between nature and human craftsmanship: that magic he admired, as a young student, in the great Medici collections.
In his workshop every creation – from the simplest jewel to the grand objet d’art inspired by the Renaissance and Mannerist tradition – passes through his hands. It is a choice, even before it is a form of control: each piece must embody his gaze, his idea, his responsibility. And yet, he tells us, the workshop could not have become what it is without his father, who supported his inclinations; without his wife, who works by his side; and even without his son, who directs him toward the future.

Your training took you through the workshop, the Academy and the Opificio: how did you find your own personal path?
I owe a great deal to my father and to his intuition. He quickly understood my need for self-expression, my desire to create something of my own, and he knew I would feel constrained within the sole dimension of jewelry, if understood in the traditional sense.
He first supported my wish to study sculpture at the Academy of Fine Arts. The true revelation, however, came from the opportunity to admire the great Medici collections, where jewelry is also sculpture, furnishing object, technical marvel and pure fantasy. From there came the idea of allowing me to pursue restoration studies at the Opificio delle Pietre Dure: it was an extraordinary school, which taught me respect for materials, for their history and their fragility. Step by step, I found my own path, also following a particular predilection for hidden details, for those creative solutions between technique and aesthetics, for those “caprices” that are typical of the great Florentine tradition.

In your work the word “balance” recurs frequently. What does it mean to you?
I have a natural inclination toward balance, nurtured by the study of the classics. In particular, I love all those objects from the past that, at first glance, convey a sense of perfect equilibrium between nature and artifice. I am thinking of works in which shells, corals and hardstones converse with gold, with metals, with human invention. Sometimes, what creates harmony is precisely an element that appears dissonant.

In your practice you engage daily not only with the Florentine tradition but also with your family’s heritage. What role does the Pestelli archive play in your creative process?
It is a private archive that represents an inexhaustible source of inspiration. We preserve thousands of silver models, drawings, fragments, parts of ornamental objects. I often find myself admiring them and thinking they are made better than I would be able to make them. I am deeply fascinated by the freedom with which, at the end of the nineteenth century, different styles were blended: classical, Renaissance, naturalistic. I love that capacity for hybridization. The archive is not a repertoire to be copied, but fertile ground where ideas intertwine and transform.

Your clientele is highly diverse: great Florentine and international families, tourists, luxury brands with whom you collaborate. How is this reflected in the workshop’s production?
Naturally, production varies according to the commission, but there is one constant: every single object that leaves the workshop passes through my hands. It is a form of control, certainly, but above all it is an assumption of responsibility. It must represent me, my name, my gaze.
My objets d’art, those closest to the late Renaissance and Mannerist tradition, always originate from my own idea. Often everything begins with a falling in love: with a particular stone, a shell, a coral, an ostrich egg. Imagination, combined with experience, gradually guides me toward the final form. It is precious when I meet a patron with whom there is a shared sensibility: a shared pleasure arises, forming the basis of genuine human relationships, even before commercial ones.

Your wife also works alongside you. What kind of dialogue develops between you?
I met Eva during my studies, and everything would have been different without her at my side. She is an established artist working in graphic design, and she brings into the workshop her entire world – shaped by a different gaze and an extraordinary creativity. She not only carefully manages client relations, but also contributes during the design phase and, given her skills in engraving, in decoration and finishing as well.

Your son represents a possible future for the workshop. What is his role?
My son Paul is twenty and studies product design. He strongly stimulates me in the field of innovation: tools, technologies, new processes. I believe these processes must be integrated into artisanal practice, yet always remain complementary to manual work, because only the human gesture gives an object a life that goes beyond technical perfection. He also pushes me toward products with a cleaner, more contemporary taste and toward collaborations with designers, which greatly interest us. We are currently working, for example, on the “Doppia Firma” project of the Fondazione Cologni dei Mestieri d’Arte, to be presented at the next Milan Design Week, which will see us engaged in the creation of an object designed by an important name in the design world.

Looking back at your journey, what do you feel you have received, and what would you like to pass on?
I consider myself very fortunate. My family believed in my dream; they gave me trust and space. They allowed me to carve out a non-linear path, to study sculpture and restoration, to enrich my skills organically and to see my personal inclinations supported. It is something I wish for all young people: to have the time and the freedom to truly understand who they are.

PESTELLI CREAZIONI
Via del Sole, 22R
Firenze (FI) – ITALY
+39 055 2302488
info@pestelli.com
www.pestelli.com

Mustras: Objects That Rediscover Meaning

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Architect and designer Fabrizio Felici and contemporary art manager Martina Carcangiu are the founders and artistic directors of Mustras, a project born in Sardinia in 2019 and developed through the contribution of a collective of artists, architects, designers, and artisans engaged in an investigation of the idea of dwelling. By weaving together theory and practice, tradition and design, in just a few years Mustras has given life to more than ninety unique objects. These works emerge from an interdisciplinary dialogue that allows them to move beyond everyday use and enter a more extraordinary sphere—one in which objects can once again be recognized as bearers of meaning, from a contemporary rather than nostalgic perspective. At the heart of the project lies the role of Sardinian artisans, true custodians of the essential bond between material, territory, and tradition.

How do the objects of the Mustras project come into being?
Mustras is an evolving container. Some projects originate from our own direct initiative, while others come from outside, proposed by designers or architects with whom we enter into dialogue. In every case, we follow the entire process—from the initial idea to its realization—identifying the artisan best suited to translate the project into a tangible object. Over the years, Mustras has grown through dialogue, gathering proposals, reflections, and works that become part of a constantly evolving body of research.

What role do artisans play?
Artisans are at the very core of the project, because they embody a deep connection with the territory, with tradition, and with a form of knowledge that adds depth to objects—a sort of “third dimension.” This is a heritage we have seen gradually fade over time, and Mustras was also conceived as an attempt to restore value to this immaterial legacy, which tends to lose its balance when artisanal production focuses primarily on tourist-oriented goods.
We are convinced that the mingling of skills generates mutual growth: designers and artists learn from artisans, and artisans, in turn, engage with new ways of seeing. We ourselves were the first to learn from what we observed and absorbed in the workshops.

Can you give us some examples of this “third dimension”?
Historically, many objects closely tied to domestic life constituted a true language. Objects were not merely functional: they told stories, relationships, and ways of living. The carved wooden madie (storage chests), for example, were rich in symbols and decorative elements that, depending on their arrangement, narrated the history of a family and the relationship between the bride’s and groom’s families.
The very name Mustras comes from sa mustra, the preparatory sketch that carpenters used to carve these chests. Each workshop jealously guarded its own mustras, which functioned as a local code, a shared lexicon. The same applies to certain textile traditions, such as the carpets of Nule, rich in religious or natural references that worked as visual narratives.
As these practices have gradually disappeared and our daily lives have changed, this language also risks being lost. Our goal has never been to reproduce it directly—that would be anachronistic—but rather to identify a line of continuity: to remain fully contemporary while seeking a thread that connects us to those elements of tradition. This approach takes different forms each time, depending on the project.

Is Mustras a project exclusively tied to Sardinia?
Our choice to work with Sardinian craftsmanship is linked to our origins, but also to the specificity of that context. Sardinian craftsmanship is a true continent—a nebula of techniques, materials, and possibilities. Insularity has certainly helped preserve strong aspects of identity. This character is our point of departure, set within a contemporary framework marked by strong cultural and architectural homogenization.
That said, Mustras is not a closed regionalist project. Its approach is transferable. Our aim is not to build fences, but bridges: to start from a local heritage and engage in dialogue with a broader, contemporary, and open horizon.

Could you tell us about some creations that have emerged from the project?
Among the works that best represent Mustras is Q.R. Quanta Res, a pibiones wool textile designed by Fabrizio Felici and Alberto Olmo. The project stems from an investigation into the concept of memory in relation to dwelling, specifically in dialogue with the territory of Seulo and the waterfall of Sa Stiddiosa, a symbolic place for the local community. The “pixelated” degradation of the weave recalls the dripping—su stiddiu in Sardinian—of water, and resonates with the idea of the QR code as a container of memory and data.
Another project, Offshore by Marco Loi, addresses the issue of production decentralization in a more explicitly critical way. Starting from labels of industrial products sold in supermarkets—made abroad yet referencing local craftsmanship—the designer transformed them into textiles produced in Sardinia. A gesture of reappropriation, both artisanal and conceptual.

There is also a more intimate work: an embroidered tablecloth designed by Martina Carcangiu and based on a text by Ernesto Nathan Rogers, published anonymously in Domus in the 1940s. The text, reflecting on the notion of dwelling, was embroidered on linen using a 1950s pedal-powered machine. The colors derive exclusively from natural dyes obtained from raw materials from southern Sardinia, demonstrating that the bond with place can pass through the choice of materials as much as through technique.

What lies ahead for the Mustras project?
Today, Mustras comprises around ninety pieces and has been selected for several prestigious exhibition contexts. The attention received from magazines and institutions came unexpectedly, like an echo that quickly traveled beyond the local sphere. Our hope is that this work can also have a tangible impact on artisanal workshops, because a unique piece—no matter how meaningful—is not enough to economically sustain a practice.
We are currently working on a commercial development that can preserve, on the one hand, the foundational value of craftsmanship and, on the other, the importance of design-driven reflection. We believe that certain objects can move beyond everyday use and enter a more extraordinary realm, where they can once again be recognized as bearers of meaning.

Patrizia Ramacci: the Immortality of Masterful Hands

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Hands that care are not only those of medical professionals or body practitioners. More broadly, they are the hands of artisans — hands that tend to the material of the world, mastering the very technique of beauty. With this belief, Patrizia Ramacci, master craftswoman in plasterwork and founder of the Bottega d’Arte Gypsea in Gubbio, has created a poetic and ambitious project, constantly evolving: the Archive of Masterful Hands, a collection of plaster casts of the hands of outstanding Italian artisans from every field. A tribute intended to grant them a form of immortality, but also a celebration of the intimate joy of making that those hands embody.

Patrizia, to begin with, can you tell us how you became an artisan?
I did not come from an artisan family; my background is in art and restoration. When my husband Vittorio and I decided to open our workshop, Gypsea, in the historic centre of Gubbio, we imagined reviving a craft that had disappeared from our area—plasterwork—where ceramics and wrought iron had always prevailed. We became an Art Workshop, even though it took me years to acknowledge it, even to myself. Seeking new paths has always been a constant in our lives. We dedicated ourselves both to restoration and to contemporary creation, offering original solutions: ceilings faithfully reproducing traditional structures—beams, joists and terracotta tiles—yet made entirely in plaster; or blown-glass spheres adorned with stucco decorations. We dared unusual combinations, mixing brass, wood, fabrics, in a continuous, fertile cross-pollination.

How did the Archive of Masterful Hands come into being?
When my husband suddenly passed away, I had to manage everything on my own, giving up part of the work that belonged to his repertoire. Even though we had always worked side by side, I was not able to carry out some of those processes myself. I found myself asking what I wanted to do next, knowing for certain that I still wanted to work with my hands. And so I questioned precisely this: what happens to the hands of artisans?

And that is when you decided to create a project entirely dedicated to them?
Exactly. The first hands I chose to render immortal, by taking their cast, were those of the last traditional thrower in Gubbio. Then came those of his son, who had returned to the workshop, allowing the tradition to continue. I then travelled to Florence to “capture” the hands of the artisans participating in Artigianato e Palazzo. I did not simply fix the hands in plaster; I fixed the multitude of stories I heard, and the essential connections those hands expressed. This is why all my casts are “mortised”: the internal connecting structures are visible all around, metaphorically displaying their bond with the world. They are casts that may seem imperfect, yet by representing the here and now with absolute fidelity, they stand as credible, tangible, and unique witnesses of skilled making.

How was the project received?
After a small initial exhibition in Gubbio, displaying just sixteen hands, came the major showcase at Palazzo dei Consoli in 2024, visited by nearly twenty thousand people, with more than 100 casts on display. It was a great success—partly because we allowed visitors to touch every hand in the exhibition, an unusual approach in the art world, and partly because they could listen to the voices of the artisans themselves, recounting their own time of making.

Who is included in the archive today?
Our archive is a collection of encounters, stories and testimonies. We have sought hands for many reasons—sometimes focusing on individual talent, other times on broader aspects such as the longevity of certain trades and workshops. Recently, I went to Venice to take the casts of artisans from legendary ateliers such as Barovier & Toso, Orsoni, and Bevilacqua. We have also welcomed artists who, as soon as I described the project, immediately wished to be part of it—Michelangelo Pistoletto and Ugo La Pietra among them. The archive today holds more than 200 hands, and it continues to grow and evolve.

What, for you, is the project’s deepest meaning?
In my view, there are two distinct yet equally vital dimensions. One concerns immortality: the desire to leave a personal imprint destined to endure. It reflects the deeply human need—for artisans as for everyone—of attention and recognition. The second is an anthropological dimension linked to the intimate pleasure and sheer happiness of making, an aspect still little known and seldom explored, regardless of the economic framework of the craft.

What is the relationship between an artisan’s skill—symbolised by the hands—and beauty?
For me, beauty is comfort: being in a place and feeling well within it. I think of walking through Venice: you are surrounded by beauty, yet to truly make it your own, you must first understand it. Artisans know the technique of beauty profoundly—its body, its essence, its materiality. Beauty lies in people, in making, in community; it is the care invested in every detail. In short, beauty is feeling—and care.

The Association of the Archive of Masterful Hands has now been established. What are your goals?
The next step is to protect the entire archive and to identify a proper exhibition venue, as all the casts currently reside in my workshop. Displaying them permanently—in a living, active way—would allow us to kindle in visitors that desire to make, which hands naturally evoke. And today, reclaiming our humanity is more necessary than ever, to distinguish ourselves from what is no longer human.
In terms of growth, our numerical goal is highly ambitious, and reaching it will require the support of both public and private institutions, including the Fondazione Cologni dei Mestieri d’Arte: we want to reach one thousand hands!

Bottega d’Arte ​Gypsea di Patrizia Ramacci

Largo del Bargello, 1 – Gubbio (PG)

Tel. 075 9271016 – Cell.: +39 338 2832388

patrizia@gypsea.com – www.gypsea.com

 

Lorenzo Foglia. From technique to art: the liberated form of silver

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Since 1935, Florence has been home to a goldsmith’s workshop specializing in silverwork that has gradually established itself as a true academy of the craft. The founder Carlo Foglia first, then his son Giuliano, and for many years now his grandson Lorenzo have all helped write the recent history of the silversmith’s art, creating extraordinary objects and training chasers who have taken their expertise not only throughout the city but around the world.
Today, the works of Lorenzo Foglia—named a MAM, Maestro d’Arte e Mestiere, in 2018—are the mature fruit of an absolute command of traditional techniques, a broad historical culture, and an expressive freedom which—much like in the finest Renaissance workshops—elevate his sculptures and all his silverwork to the status of high art. In his words, one senses all the awareness and passion of a craftsperson who looks to Cellini and Leonardo as guiding spirits.

Maestro, can you tell us how your story began?
It all began with my grandfather Carlo, born in 1910. He was not Tuscan but Lombard, from Erba. After graduating from the Brera Academy of Fine Arts in Milan, he decided to move and open his first goldsmith’s workshop in Florence, which he considered—even more than Paris—the heart of the tradition of this craft. My father Giuliano joined him, and then I arrived: at just fourteen I decided to leave school and enter the workshop to draw, chase, and hammer metal. To me, it was the most beautiful game in the world! If I later went back to studying—first in high school and then at university—it was to look at the craft from a more detached perspective and to understand, first and foremost, myself.

Did such an early and hands-on training become a limitation or an advantage?
Although entirely familial—one might say made in Foglia—my training was not lacking in theoretical depth; on the contrary, it was like an academy. My grandfather, whom I knew for only a few years, and my father passed on to me the enormous importance of the foundations that must accompany practice, and in those years a great many Florentine chasers trained in our workshop. I have never approached a sculpture without first studying its theoretical development and proportions. But I had the immense advantage of fully experiencing the workshop: an irreplaceable school in the dimension of reality, one that not only allows for constant dialogue but also lets you “steal,” with your eyes, the secrets of the craft.

Stylistically, what has the Foglia workshop contributed to the silversmith’s art?
My grandfather introduced to Florence a Baroque-leaning style, made of powerful repoussé work that was foreign to the Florentine tradition—typically more precise and delicate but also more cerebral, at least in silverwork. The forcefulness of the Baroque was, instead, part of the Lombard heritage.
I have always tried to learn as much as possible and to acquire the highest level of technical mastery, knowing that training does not create artists but skilled artisans, just as a conservatory does not necessarily produce great musicians but good music teachers. Technique is a starting point; mastering it is a doorway to expressing oneself freely.

And in which direction has your creativity evolved?
In the early 2000s, the silvermaking sector was in crisis. Wealthy families—the natural clientele for objects crafted in precious metals—were no longer interested in reproductions of Baroque service sets, which they already had at home for generations. Mass production began, which trivialized silver and was also environmentally unsustainable. Buying a silver object should be like going to a good delicatessen, choosing the finest product, and having it sliced to order. There should be no single-serve portions packaged in plastic! It is a luxury, and as such it is born of desire, not necessity.
I decided to take a leap into the void, starting to design in a completely free manner, unbound by stylistic or technical limits. I avoided letting my experience constrain my creativity—pushing me to choose certain solutions only because they were the ones codified by the perspective of know-how. I freed myself from function, devoting myself to sculpture, seeking to create objects people could fall in love with, and only afterward worrying about how to make them.

What is your vision of the relationship between artisan and artist?
The artisan works within the bounds of their training; the craft is the more academic component. To evolve, one must violate certain stylistic norms, introducing an element of novelty. It is the artistic component that takes on these violations—or variations—which may later become codified themselves and thus fall back within the realm of craftsmanship. It is the passage from minor to major art, the one accomplished by geniuses such as Benvenuto Cellini in sculpture or Leonardo in painting. The Renaissance was born precisely in the Florentine goldsmiths’ workshops, where wealthy patrons entrusted trusted artists with the precious materials needed to create something new and extraordinary.

You collaborate with designers and major companies. Do you enjoy cross-pollination?
Yes, it is essential to break canonical, academic balances. Some companies come to me to disrupt the overly mechanical representation of one of their objects, to invent a detail that interrupts seriality—a pseudo-perfection that is not truly perfect. The market tires of automatism; it wants the irregularity that creates perfection. Humanity is not a matter of being or not being, zero or one, as in binary code—it is everything in between. A machine would produce identical statues, whereas identity is born from the sum of imperfections.

For years now you have also been teaching. Do you enjoy passing on your know-how to younger generations?
One is not a Master unless there are pupils. It is a shared growth, because when you teach you discover reality through the eyes of the learner, who is like a child discovering the world. It is a responsibility, because what you teach will become, for the student, something like an axiom. You must seek answers within yourself and convey them with due delicacy. Having trained many foreigners who come to Florence, I have “children of the craft” all over the world, and it is moving to find in their work the traces of what I have taught them.

Daniele Mingardo: visions of contemporary craftsmanship

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Born into the craft, Daniele Mingardo is a young yet established master of metalworking who, at a very early age, transformed his family’s successful business into a thoroughly contemporary project. Passionate about design and naturally drawn to challenges, at just 25 Daniele shifted the perspective of the metalworking company founded in 1970 in Monselice (Padua) by his father Ilario. Alongside commissioned work, he introduced a collection of handcrafted objects with an elegant, minimal style, designed by a network of international designers under the guidance of an art director and produced in limited editions. A successful idea that did not sacrifice but instead enhanced Mingardo’s artisanal soul, giving rise to a new brand that embodies the essence of contemporary craftsmanship.

At only twenty-five, you began transforming the family business. How did you manage that?
My father Ilario founded Mingardo Metal Carpentry in 1970 in Monselice, in the province of Padua. He dedicated his life to it, working with extraordinary commitment and passion, every day from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m., always taking on the challenges posed by clients and trying, as a true craftsman, to deliver whatever was asked of him. I joined the workshop at just 18, eager to learn but also to contribute. I had a passion for design and a different mindset—more assertive and more inclined to take on challenges. Within a few years, I proposed a new perspective alongside traditional commissioned work: I wanted us to be at the center of the creative process, deciding what to produce and how. So, in 2012–2013 we presented our first furniture pieces, developed with Aldo Parisotto as Creative Director and a first group of designers called on to interpret our style. From there, several collections followed, involving both emerging and established designers, and sometimes even collaborations with professionals from outside the design world, such as photographers and stylists.

How did the market react?
The most surprising outcome was the strategic benefit we saw in terms of communication and the company’s image. Our product catalog showcased the range of processes we were capable of, opening us up to new and unexpected opportunities not only in product design but also in custom services. Today, we operate in both areas. Mingardo products embody our elegant, minimal style and serve as a ground for cross-pollination and dialogue with the various designers we invite to collaborate, all within a clear artistic direction. Custom work, on the other hand, spans a wide spectrum—from bespoke kitchens to sculptures, depending on clients’ requests—and finds in our products the best possible catalog: a guarantee for the client that we can deliver whatever they ask.

What is the goal behind the recent opening of the Mingardo Gallery in Milan?
We wanted a place to bring clients and architects, to show that we can not only create objects but also design entire environments with great flexibility. When we are entrusted with an interior project, we act as the lead for the entire process: we can select the most suitable architect from our network and manage collaborations with other artisans for additional work—glass, wood, etc. Initially, we thought about opening the Gallery in Monselice, but it would have quickly become a chaotic extension of the workshop, overwhelmed by the creative frenzy. So we chose Milan, the perfect city to engage in dialogue with the thousands of architects and designers who live and work there, or who visit during major events.

Does manual skill remain central even in a craft activity that makes wide use of tools and technology?
We’ve moved past the traditional image of the blacksmith hammering iron. Today, certain processes require not only manual expertise but also advanced machines and technologies. That said, in craftsmanship what truly makes the difference is still the hand—the human touch—even in the use of machines and tools. I believe this is the right vision of contemporary craftsmanship.

What advice would you give to artisans seeking a more contemporary approach to their craft?
I’ll give you an example. Some time ago, if asked to weld brass with a TIG welder—a tool that ensures an especially clean, residue-free finish—my father would have said it was impossible: brass requires a blowtorch. That’s it. Artisans often say “it can’t be done.” They rely on their great experience—and rightly so—but they close themselves off to new possibilities. I, on the other hand, gave it a try. I spent nights experimenting until I succeeded. Now I can weld all metals with TIG. My advice to artisans is to dare, to embrace the new, to keep learning, to share their secrets and know-how without being protective. The right mindset is: it can be done—you just have to find a way.

In 2020 you received the title of Master of Arts and Crafts. What does this recognition mean to you?
In Italy, when it comes to craftsmanship, we have many extraordinary excellences that, unfortunately, are at risk of disappearing. I feel enormous gratitude toward those who, like the Cologni Foundation for the Métiers d’Art, have long been defending and promoting this immense heritage with great dedication. And I am honored to have received the title of Master of Arts and Crafts.