In Conversation with Guglielmo Castelli

Words by

Dessislava Pirinchieva

In Conversation with Guglielmo Castelli

Let’s start with the beginning. Initially, you studied stage design, and you also were related to fashion and the illustration of children’s books. What made you shift your focus to painting? I’d like to know if it was a kind of epiphany.

Epiphany is a good word. I started to draw before talking. The idea of the paper and the touching and the tools of the pencils and the colours to help me, to suggest to me the opportunity to think more, not only in the way to use the words but how the words can create imaginary things and images.

I remember that I founded a course at the primary school when I was fifteen years old, and I had this friend who was doing this course for illustrators. It was amazing because I had a test about how to describe that situation and what could be better to explain that mood. I remember that the first was Little Red Riding Hood.

Yes, and you changed the ending of the tale.

I never published anything about that because Italy is very strict. After that, when I had to decide which kind of course could be best for me and to find a school, the idea of painting, where I’d have to remain in a room with other painters, didn’t feel right. I don’t know if it’s because of ego or a fear.

For the stage design and scenography, it’s very different because I’m still very close to the literature and the words, so I think this is the best place to understand my idea of something. I’m still in my mind. I always find more interesting things in the world that look so far from the things close to me. For this reason, I’ve always tried. I have a sort of talent in some ways, and I don’t want to put it in a box. I remember that I went to Milan when I was still studying in the final school, and my teacher told me that he knew the picture that I took for the Italian Vogue and that we could arrange a meeting. During that initial meeting, they acknowledged my talent but informed me that they didn’t have a position available for me, which left me feeling deeply disappointed upon returning home.

Later, the nephew of Franca Sozzani called me, and he told me that they would like to offer me a job, and they gave me that amazing section on their website for five years. That was my point of view. Again, I found myself not in the most correct place, thinking of the idea of an artist I know.

What did you do for Vogue?

During the first years, I had to choose a big brand, like Prada or Dolce & Gabbana, and choose something from the runway. I had to do a sort of sketch and write a very short article. But then it was way more interesting because I did the same but with young designers. So it was much more interesting to find a new brand and new people. I’m really provincial, and now I can use this word in the right way. I live in Turin, and it is not a big city, but it is the perfect city where I can find a place where I can put all of my themes for growing up and blossoming because I need to find myself in a comfort zone. This might be cliche, but the idea of a limit gives me a lot of freedom. It’s exactly the same way that I approach the canvas and the idea of being a painter. Every time that I paint on a free canvas, I need the frame.

Installation view, Guglielmo Castelli, ‘Improving Songs for Anxious Children’, Fondazione Bevilacqua La Masa, Venice, Italy, 2024. Photography by Nicola Morittu

In an interview, you said: “a good sense of fear motivates me better than anything else.” This is a fascinating concept, especially since people usually tend to avoid fear. Can this idea cohabit with the need to live in a comfort zone and frame the wild?

The painting epiphany came when I moved out and went to Berlin for a year and a half. After I studied stage design, I tried to understand how to manage the dimensions of the canvases and the relation between the space and the relationship between me and the space of the canvas, and if it belongs to me or to the canvas. In this space, I found a lot of fear and doubt, as well as the idea of failing, but I also found it much more interesting. I remember every time I read a book or I saw a film it was much more interesting to me the shadow part of the narrative. In theatre, the most interesting part is not only the representation in front but also in the sides, in this little part where something can happen before or after. It’s another kind of narrative approach. For me, also, Turin is a strange city because it’s many different things; it’s very baroque; there are a lot of shadows inside; and it could be one of the three cities of black magic. Arte Povera was born here, but the metaphysic too. I also remember the first time I started working on drawings, and I really loved the object, like the knife.

Yes, I saw it many times, as well as the scissors.

These elements, and fire, persist; they serve as a form of purification. It’s very physical, and it could be very violent. But at the same time, I try to settle everything in a very aesthetic way.

It seems that you find beauty in darkness and violence.

To settle everything, I think it is the wrong idea. Also in painting. A good painter is not about finishing the work; it’s about the next one. It’s a relationship between elements. Try to collect the elements. In the shades, I find more options.

Installation view, Guglielmo Castelli, ‘Art Club #38’, Villa Medici, Rome, Italy, 2024

It makes me think about an interview I read between Hans Ulrich Obrist and Carsten Höller, in which the latter says that he’s not interested in the figure of the artist as a visionary but instead is much more interested in the figure of the artist who is creating doubts.

I don’t try to represent doubt by giving the viewer more questions. It’s quite pretentious. I try to doubt myself. Again, it’s only about the definitions. I’m a figurative painter, but I arrive at the figurative approach from the abstract. For me, it’s completely unexpected.

You begin by covering the canvas with unpredictable abstraction, incorporating temper, acrylic, and oil. Gradually, you create pathways for your characters, who inhabit the canvas fluidly, resembling skeletons narrating multilinear stories. Tell me more about the process.

It’s a very frustrating approach. I try to understand day by day the balance between the shadows, the lights, the colours, the forms, and the aesthetics. Every day I arrive at the studio in the morning, and I draw all the time.

Do you have moments of silence, when you just sit in the studio thinking about the work?

I never use silence to create something that is talking about chaos. I need touching, moving, opening, and closing again, and this movement is kind of dancing. When I touch things, I find the better element in the representation of the canvas in that moment. It is a continuing movement.

It sounds very disciplined.

Discipline is very important. I always start with the title, and later it’s like opening with a big knife and moving the elements in this new structure, and later, in the drawings, I make sketches. This is the most private moment. There are a lot of drawings that I’ve never showed. It’s the most erotic and violent moment, and there is a lot of darkness on the white page of the sketchbook. I also change the rooms in my studio because one room is only for drawing and the other is only for painting. The painting moment is the final moment. It’s very interesting for me to have this moment of finalisation about the elements I decided to put inside. At the end, it’s kind of a carnival.

Installation view, Guglielmo Castelli, ‘Art Club #38’, Villa Medici, Rome, Italy, 2024

How do you approach size?

I might change over the years, but for now, I have found the right size for the work. The viewer’s approach changes according to size. For the small sizes, you have to go really close to the work, take your time, and see the detail. When you are moving close to the big size, is totally different.

It’s a kind of choreography of viewing.

In a period when everything is very photogenic, I think that we have a duty to do the things that I try to do and have a lot of sense of duty. I really believe in the work of the team, the curator, and the gallerist, otherwise it is a kind of monologue.

As you mentioned the figure of the curator, let’s talk about your most recent exhibition at Fondazione Bevilacqua La Masa, Palazzetto Tito, Venice, during the 60th Venice Biennale. It’s called Improving Songs for Anxious Children and was curated by Milovan Farronato. It’s very interesting that the title was drawn from a children’s book published at the turn of the 20th century and is focused on so-called bad behaviour such as carelessness, distraction, and other apparently immoral behaviour in children. You found the book in the New York Public Library, and you suddenly felt a hot wave in your body. How important is it for you to navigate through intuition?

In my case, when I find something, my temperature changes, and there is no reason why. I cannot say if it’s right or not, but I feel that I have to take it in this moment. I remember that I found that title really appropriate, and it was very instinctive. I’m really anxious; I’m a really structured person, and I schedule everything. It may be that some of those feathers are not so common for an artist, but at the same time, I need to put some bombs in and see what is going to happen if I change something. I need to set for myself some limits for trying to detonate the creative bombs; otherwise, it is too much freedom for me.

Your mother told you that it is very important to read other people’s stories and to look beyond one’s own garden.

It’s the only way of thinking about the future, because the future is also about people; it’s not about only me and you but the relationship between us and also about the space between us. I tried to ask myself about all that, and it was when the epiphany of the scenography happened. I don’t want to explain too much about my paintings. In this case, Milovan was a really good curator.

He asked a lot of questions.

There were a lot of questions, but he was very generous with me because he tried to generate another story. So I think it’s a mix of elements. To be very strict, but remain in the position of dancing inside.

Guglielmo Castelli, 'Are we not drawn onward to new era', 2022. Oil on canvas, oléo sobre tela, 180 x 350 cm, 70 7/8 x 137 3/4 in, MW.GCA.055. Courtesy of the artist and Mendes Wood DM, São Paulo, Brussels and New York. Photo credit: Nicola Morittu

You are very much connected with the power of words and with literature, and you said that often the work is a result of a title or a phrase from a book. Can you explain this process?

I was a very lonely child, so literature helped me a lot. Stories of others can help me think about new landscapes, situations, and relationships between people. They gave me the input to create. Starting from words that can represent something and moving away from the first idea and seeing how to relate it also to my idea of the world and to put the elements I use every time and the falling bodies and this very liquid approach with the bodies. I prefer the Grimm’s fairytales. I never understood the Disney representation; you only postpone real life for children, and I find it very dangerous. It’s much more interesting to look from your comfort zone to a much more warning zone.

How does the body relate to the spaces and stages you create?

My bodies become bodies when I manage the bodies in relation to landscapes in my own presentation. It’s like acting in a play or acting in a theatre. This is the power of occupying space. You can occupy with the body, with the actions, and also with the words.

What’s the importance of the light in your studio? Did the behaviour of the light affect your paintings while you were at an art residency in California, in comparison to your paintings in Zurich, for example?

The light in California is amazing, but everything for everyone looks happy, and everyone is saying “hello” in the morning. I’m coming from Turin, where embracing people for more than three seconds is too much, and you have to take the distance. I prefer the European light. It’s not only about the light; it’s also about the light that reflects and the reflection of the light in terms of the objects on the wall.

In your most recent exhibition in Venice, you had the reflections of the canal.

Yes, a lot of light was entering through a very bold glass, changing the surface of everything. Again, it’s not only about one element; it’s not only about the light; it’s the light that can dialogue in a space and be reflected on the bodies and on the objects. The object is you and your story. I also remember that in California, the buildings were almost the same.

Guglielmo Castelli, 'Le Jardin des Refusés', 2022. Oil on canvas, 240 x 192 cm, 94 1/2 x 75 5/8 in, MW.GCA.029. Courtesy of the artist and Mendes Wood DM, São Paulo, Brussels, New York. Photo credit: Nicola Morittu

There you were feeling as if you were living in a Coen brothers movie, surrounded by multiple abandoned swimming pools, motels, and colourful neon.

My studio’s called Sweet Baby Motel, and it’s completely different from my idea of beauty because in the motel there’s something that is happening very fast and in a very dusty way. There is something in the burning light of California and the swimming pools that nobody takes care of.

Did you place this petite bronze plaque saying Sweet Baby Motel before or after your stay in California?

I’ve had the name in my mind for a lot of years, but I’ve never had a very proper studio for it. Now is the right time for this studio. It’s a statement, a statement of nothing.

There should be some meaning behind this title.

I think it’s a good name. You open the door, and you find the chaos inside, but you also recognise something that’s really structured. The division of the two rooms, the colours, the pink velvet sofa. It’s a mix of very different objects.

You also have a lot of objects from your childhood.

Yes, I collect many objects. Maybe in something ugly, you can find as much beauty. There are two very old vitrines with objects from my childhood and from the childhood of my mom, as well as objects that really attracted me at a flea market. When I’m attracted by an object, I never explain why to myself. This process creates an archive.

Full of stories.

Yes and no. Sometimes when I see the drawings, I can also see the objects in them, but at the same time, it’s quite dangerous because it’s an appropriation of something. Also, the story of the others is that when you are on the train and it goes very fast and you see the light in the houses, it’s not necessary to ask too much about those lights, it’s the same with the objects. The way I put them in the vitrine and close to each other describes much more about the object and me than the object itself. This is similar to how I arrive from a figurative to an abstract approach. The way I put the object and turn it becomes more interesting to me than only the object itself. I know how to create a balance in the image, using the colours and the forms; it’s a mix of taste and experience, for sure.

Guglielmo Castelli, 'The Playroom', 2023. Oil on wood, 40 x 30 cm, 15 3/4 x 11 3/4 in, MW.GCA.094. Courtesy of the artist and Mendes Wood DM, São Paulo, Brussels, Paris, New York. Photo credit: Nicola Morittu

I saw this fantastic video from your studio on the website of Mendes Wood DM. In it, I glimpsed you painting left-handed. Are you left-handed?

Yes. When I studied with the priest, I still had the devil’s hand.

I read that you haven’t washed your brushes for four years. Are your brushes still unwashed?

Yes. It’s true. When I saw that I had finished those very terrible mixes of turpentine and oil colours, I put more turpentine in to keep a little fire. Consequently, some of the brushes no longer resemble brushes; they’ve undergone a complete transformation. They’re like monsters. At the end, it’s like the memory of the brushes. It’s a way to give back the form and meaning of something.

What are you working on now?

I’m going to Brazil for the first time in August because I’ll have my first solo show in Sao Paulo in April next year at Mendes Wood Gallery.

You’ve been showing your work in many different parts of the world, and I would like to ask you: how does the approach to your work vary in relation to that?

This is a very interesting question, and it’s one that I’m also starting to ask myself. Maybe no, because at the end, always people recognise that there’s something wrong in my representation. I hope that, for the viewer, the result could be the same. Falling is falling everywhere.

Fail, fail again and fail better.

Yes, absolutely, it is Beckett. It could be a very general approach in our time when you always have to be better than others. It’s a good way to say, I’m okay. I try to do my best with the tools that I have. For me, it’s very important to have my alphabet. It could be very nostalgic and romantic, but it could also be very violent to defend those elements.

Guglielmo Castelli (b.1987, Turin, Italy) lives and works in Turin, Italy. His recent solo shows include Improving songs for anxious children, at Fondazione Bevilacqua La Masa, Venice, Italy (2024); Show | Guglielmo Castelli - Art Club #38, Villa Medici, Rome, Italy (2024); A Lover's Discourse, Aspen Museum, Aspen, CO, USA (2023); Demonios Familiares, Mendes Wood DM, New York, NY, USA (2023); The Cabin LA Presents: A Curated Flashback, Green Family Art Foundation, Dallas, TX, USA (2023); Calm act in closed room, Mendes Wood DM, Brussels, Belgium (2021); Ornate Impotence, The Cabin, Los Angeles, CA, USA (2020); Sia inteso come tutto ciò che non pesa, Fondazione Coppola, Vicenza, Italy (2019); Goodmorning Bambino, KünstlerhausBethanien, Berlin, Germany (2018).
His work was featured in several institutional presentations including Pittura Italiana Oggi, Triennale Milano, Milan, Italy (2023); mutanti, sotto un cielo che implode, OGR Torino, Turin, Italy (2023); Diario Notturno, Maxxi L'Aquila, L'Aquila, Italy (2023); Expressioni, Castello di Rivoli Museo d’Arte Contemporanea, Rivoli, Italy (2022); the 17a Quadriennale di Roma, Rome, Italy(2020); Stasi Frenetica, GAM, Turin, Italy (2020); the Biennale Internazionale d’Art Contemporain de Melle (2018); Challenging Beauty, Parkview Museum, Singapore (2018); Recto/ Verso 2, Foundation Louis Vuitton, Paris, France (2018); Intriguing Uncertainties, Museum Of Contemporary Art of Saint-Étienne, Saint-Étienne, France (2016); Lo sguardo delle gallerie sulla grande arte italiana, Pinacoteca Nazionale di Bologna, Bologna, Italy (2016).
Castelli’s work is part of the collections of Blenheim Art Foundation, Oxfordshire, UK; By Art Matters Museum, Hangzhou, China; Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo, Turin, Italy; He Art Museum, Foshan, China; Long Museum, Stony Brook, New York, NY, USA; Marciano Art Foundation, Los Angeles, CA, USA; Ostillo Collection, Austin, TX, USA; Samdani Art Foundation, Dhaka, Bangladesh; the Blenheim Art Foundation, Woodstock, UK; the Castello di Rivoli Museum d’Arte Contemporanea, Rivoli, Italy; The George Economou Collection, Marousi, Greece; and Yuz Museum, Shanghai, China.

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Studio Images. Photography by Nicola Morittu