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MAGAZINE · INTERVIEW

Annalisa Rosso

Annalisa Rosso is a curator, design advisor and editor whose work connects design, culture and communication. Trained in anthropology, she brings an interest in people and relationships to collaborations with companies, institutions and creative communities around the world. Together with Francesco Mainardi, she co-founded Mr.Lawrence, a strategic design consultancy. She is Editorial and Cultural Director, Advisor at Salone del Mobile.Milano, curator of Salone Raritas and Director of the Euroluce International Lighting Forum.

Her practice spans exhibitions, public programmes, installations and editorial projects, including collaborations with Es Devlin, David Lynch and Matilde Cassani for Salone del Mobile.Milano. Since 2017, she has worked with collector and philanthropist Silvia Fiorucci and her nonprofit La Società delle Api, developing artists’ residencies in France and Greece and exhibitions dedicated to contemporary design. Formerly Editor-in-Chief of Icon Design and Head of Domus online, Rosso has also contributed to international publications, served on design juries and committees, and represented Italian design as a Design Ambassador in Prague, Hong Kong and Copenhagen.

Annalisa Rosso by Mattia Dal Bello_02
© Mattia Dal Bello

INTERVIEW

Your career has moved between anthropology, journalism, editorial direction, consulting, and curation. When you begin a new exhibition, which of these ways of looking tends to emerge first?

More than a way of looking, I would say it is a way of listening. Listening and noticing. As American anthropologist Anna Tsing suggests, noticing can be a form of resistance to our habit of looking only toward an already imagined future. I like her notion of “autumn thinking”, the attention of someone searching for mushrooms on the forest floor, training the eye to find what does not reveal itself at first glance. Every project begins in the attention I give to what I hear from others, and perhaps this is where my background in anthropology comes in most strongly.

Before there is a title, a list of designers, or a defined space, where does an exhibition usually begin for you: with a question, an image, a place, a conversation, or perhaps a tension that you want to explore?

It always starts with an input that reaches me from someone else, and it usually grows out of exchanges from which the idea takes shape. This was the case with ON DISPLAY!, the exhibition I recently curated in Venice at Palazzo Lezze Michiel for the collector and patron Silvia Fiorucci and her nonprofit organization La Società delle Api. It came from long conversations about what it means to display, and to interpret, a work of art.

Nine designers and studios, Aldo Bakker, Valentina Cameranesi Sgroi, Formafantasma, Martino Gamper, Odd Matter, Parasite 2.0, Soft Baroque, Bethan Laura Wood and Zaven, were invited to dialogue with works by artists such as John Baldessari, Chiara Camoni, Marc Camille Chaimowicz, Sylvie Fleury and Francis Upritchard, among others. Their displays became the subject of the project: an act of interpretation that shapes how visitors see the artworks.

The public encounters what a curator has selected, but rarely what has been excluded. How important is the act of refusal in building an exhibition, and how do you recognise when an object may be remarkable but does not belong to the project?

Very important, and very difficult. With time and experience, I have learned that synthesis is necessary to make a point of view intelligible. An object can be extraordinary and still say something else, and then it becomes noise. The hardest part is convincing others, whether an institution, a company, or a designer, that exclusion can bring advantages. 

Salone Raritas exists within the scale and commercial intensity of the Salone del Mobile. How did you establish a distinct curatorial identity for it without simply reproducing the conventions of either a trade fair or a white-cube exhibition?

I see Salone Raritas as part of a much larger shift in the way the design industry is evolving. The boundaries between industrial production, limited editions, master craftsmanship, collectible design, and historical pieces are becoming increasingly porous. At the same time, the market is looking for objects with strong cultural and individual identities, particularly in hospitality, contract and high-end residential projects.

Raritas was never conceived as a collectible-design fair inside the Salone, nor as a white-cube exhibition. It is a bridge between worlds that have traditionally been kept separate, but which today increasingly coexist. This is a profound change: a broader understanding of what industry can be, where uniqueness and serial production are no longer necessarily opposites.

In Salone Raritas, the exhibition architecture developed by Formafantasma played an important role in framing the works. At what stage does spatial design enter your process, and can the architecture ever force you to reconsider the selection itself?

As early as possible. I need exhibition design to be part of the process from the very beginning to carry meaning. I would feel uncomfortable treating something so central to the main idea of an exhibition as simply a background.

This has certainly been the case with Formafantasma and Salone Raritas. The conversation with Simone Farresin and Andrea Trimarchi became fundamental right away, and it continues as we develop the second edition. Their thinking affects mine and vice versa. For this kind of collaboration to work, I think you need to be open to listening while remaining determined about the ideas you believe in, with Simone and Andrea, this balance comes naturally.

Much of curatorial work consists of conversations and negotiations with designers, galleries, architects, institutions, sponsors, and production teams. Which of these exchanges most profoundly shape an exhibition while remaining almost completely invisible to its audience?

Every story is different, and sometimes the most hidden exchanges are the ones that give an exhibition its form. For Salone del Mobile.Milano I worked with Es Devlin on Library of Light, a monumental kinetic sculpture installed in the Cortile d’Onore of the Pinacoteca di Brera. It welcomed around 200,000 visitors and opened the way to a series of variations on the same concept. The dialogue with Grande Brera was decisive in discovering the history of the place and its lesser-known details, such as the only sculpture of a woman in the courtyard, which shaped the entire project.

What do you need to understand about a designer beyond the finished object? How deeply do you enter their process, materials, intentions, and personal history before deciding how their work should be presented?

I work mostly with the contemporary, and whether I am speaking with designers or other kinds of interlocutors, the initial deep dive is for me the most important part. Understanding, getting to know. My greatest satisfaction is when someone tells me I have grasped something of their work, or made a connection that revealed something they had not yet seen themselves. I suppose many years of psychoanalysis, together with a background in anthropology, have left their mark. Or at least a few useful habits.

You have worked on intimate, site-specific projects as well as exhibitions presented to very large international audiences. What changes in your curatorial thinking when the scale expands? Is it still possible to preserve intimacy within a major platform?

My approach does not change. I always look for empathy and an open relationship, one that does not impose a point of view but allows people to discover something about themselves and others. My greatest aspiration is that a project does not end but becomes the beginning of exchanges and thoughts.

This is the case with ONSTAGE, the cultural project of OFFSTAGE that I curated in Milan with Cristian Minerva just a few days ago. Its purpose is precisely to activate a sincere, independent exchange among people who work on and research contemporary living: an unguided conversation, and we do not yet know where it will lead us.

After months of research and preparation, installations often produce unexpected relationships between works. Can you recall a moment when seeing the objects together changed your own understanding of the exhibition?

It happens often, but for Salone Raritas it was moving. Pieces so distant in era, geography, materials, aesthetics, and function spoke the same language; they resonated with one another.

For me, this is the new language of interior design that brings together different elements in harmony, like celestial bodies held in orbit by a gravitational force.

What is one task, or one person, behind an exhibition that the public almost never notices, but without whom the project could not truly exist?

Perhaps the most invisible task is building trust. An exhibition is made of objects and spaces, but behind them is an enormous network of relationships, not always simple. People who agree to take risks, to expose something precious or intimate, to change their minds, to try something that has never been done before.

A large part of my work happens there, it is about creating the conditions for people to feel confident while keeping different expectations and sensitivities in balance. When it works, all that complexity disappears, and what remains feels almost easy!

Thank you so much Annalisa, for this lovely interview!

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