(index.php)

LVH Art in Conversation with Matthieu Humery, The Pioneering Curator Shaping the Future of Photography

This month, LVH had the pleasure of speaking with renowned photography specialist and curator Matthieu Humery. His multifaceted career—spanning museums, auction houses, and private collections—is rooted in his exceptional expertise in photography, his expert eye, and an unwavering drive to innovate and push the boundaries of curatorial practice. Whether curating an exhibition, spotlighting emerging photographers, or offering fresh perspectives on familiar works, his approach consistently seeks to uncover something new and challenge the viewer’s perception.

Matthieu Humery spoke with us about the landmark exhibitions he has curated, how to start collecting photography, the most meaningful works in his personal collection, the growing momentum of the photography market, and more. His words and work invite you to appreciate photography in a way few others have, offering a compelling case for why it deserves the same recognition and respect as any other art form.

From 2001 to 2005, Humery worked in the photography department at Phillips auction house in Paris and New York, where he revolutionized the sales catalogue format, achieving remarkable success. In 2007, he became head of the photography department at Christie’s in New York. He then joined the LUMA Foundation—founded in 2004 by Maja Hoffmann in Zurich. He currently serves as the director of the Living Archives program at the LUMA Foundation and is also a curator for the Pinault Collection.

Over the years, Humery has advised some of the world’s leading photography collectors and curated several of the most compelling photography exhibitions of the past decade. In 2021, he co-curated Henri Cartier-Bresson: Le Grand Jeu at Palazzo Grassi, offering a bold new interpretation of the legendary photographer’s work. In 2023, he returned to Palazzo Grassi to curate Chronorama, a major exhibition featuring photographs and illustrations from the Condé Nast archives. Recently, Humery curated Untroubled, the first exhibition of Irving Penn’s work in the Middle East, held at the Mina Image Centre in Beirut.

LVH Art: ⁠How did your passion for photography first begin?

Matthieu Humery: My passion for photography is part of a broader fascination with images in general. From an early age, I was captivated by the way a single image-whether a painting, a photograph, or a film still-could condense time, space, and emotion. I was drawn to composition, to the architecture of an image, how light, form, and framing come together to create meaning. My interest in cinema sparked a fascination with the way images move and unfold over time. Photography, for me, emerged as a bridge between painting and film— as a perfect balance between stillness and narrative. Over time, my interest extended beyond the photographs themselves to include studying how they are collected, preserved, and presented. That’s where my curatorial path began: from a desire to understand how images, and the ways they are collected, influence our perception of the world.

LVH Art: ⁠How do you feel the digital age has impacted the value and appreciation of photography as an art form?

Matthieu Humery: The truth is that photography has always evolved in direct dialogue with technological and technical innovation. I would even say that this is its very nature. And it’s precisely this adaptability that has often led people to question whether photography is truly “art,” or whether it’s losing its artistic status in the face of constant transformation. But to me, it’s quite the opposite. It is the very instability and constant transformation of photography that are what make it so vital and engaging.

From the very beginning, photography was about invention. The first images, like daguerreotypes, were unique, irreproducible objects. Then came the invention of the negative – first on paper, then on glass – which allowed for multiplication, enlargement, manipulation. Every major shift in the medium’s history – from analog to digital, and now to AI-generated imagery – has simply been a new chapter in the same story: photography as a medium constantly at the frontier of change.

Far from diminishing its value, these shifts have continually redefined what photography can be. They force us to ask: What is an image? What is authorship? What is real? In that sense, photography remains one of the most intellectually and artistically challenging forms of expression today – precisely because it never stops evolving.

LVH Art: ⁠What advice would you give to an art collector looking to acquire their first photograph for their collection?

Matthieu Humery: Even though you’re collecting photography, you’re not just collecting an image—you’re acquiring an object. A photograph is a work of art in its own right, and like any artwork, it has qualities such as materiality, history, rarity, condition which one needs to consider. The quality of the photograph- its paper, its tonal depth, its state of preservation, the date of the print – is fundamental. Otherwise, you might as well be collecting images on your phone.

Then there’s the important question of how images relate to one another. A collection is never a series of isolated works. Each photograph becomes a fragment of a larger narrative. In photography, perhaps more than in any other medium, the connections between images – formally, conceptually, historically – are incredibly rich. The way you build your collection can express a vision as coherent and personal as a curatorial project. So, trust your eye – but also think in terms of dialogue, not trophies.

LVH Art: What was the first photograph you ever purchased as part of your collection?

Matthieu Humery: The first photograph I ever bought was a beautiful three-quarter oval portrait of the painter Gustave Doré, taken by Étienne Carjat in the early 1860s. I was immediately drawn to the idea of one artist being portrayed by another – of a photographer capturing a painter. It brings up questions that intrigue me, such as, do a painter or a photographer approach a portrait in similar ways? Also, in the image the codes of the pose were subtly subverted, as the image hovered between homage and invention. That photograph sparked a deeper curiosity about how photography represents artists, and how it borrows – and transforms – the conventions of other mediums. I ended up exploring these themes more thoroughly, particularly through the photographs of Eugène Disdéri, who invented the carte-de-visite portrait format around the same period.

LVH Art: ⁠Is there a particular photograph that holds special significance for you in your collection?

Matthieu Humery: I mostly collect portraits, and the photograph that’s closest to my heart is probably Edward Steichen’s portrait of Gary Cooper from 1928. As a teenager, I had found a poster of a Whitney Museum exhibition on Steichen at a flea market, with that very image on it. I remember being struck by its absolute modernity – both in the pose and in the intensity of the figure. Years later, coming across the original print and being able to acquire it felt almost unreal, like a quiet sign from the past.

What made it even more meaningful is that, much later, I had the opportunity to curate Chronorama at the Palazzo Grassi in Venice, drawn from the Condé Nast archives – exactly where that portrait originated. It was as if the photograph had been following me through time.

LVH Art: How do you go about making decisions when adding new photographs to your collection?

Matthieu Humery: Whether it’s for my own collection or for those I advise, I try to follow the “inner logic” of the collection, which the collector may have formed unconsciously. It always begins with the relationships between images, then between groups of images. Often, the collection ultimately reflects the owner’s story and sensibilities. When I’m not buying for myself, I try to become a kind of chameleon. I step into the mindset of the collector. One dreams in images, and my role is to dream on behalf of someone else. That shift allows me to see photographs from angles I wouldn’t have considered on my own.

Of course, beyond that, I always look at the photograph as an object – the date of the print, its paper, dimensions, condition. The materiality matters. An image must resonate – but it must also hold up, physically and historically.

LVH Art: Who are some contemporary photographers whose work you admire, and what is it about their work that resonates with you?

Matthieu Humery: There are several, but a few stand out. I greatly admire Deana Lawson, whose work I recently had the privilege of presenting in France for the first time at the Bourse de Commerce, as part of a group exhibition titled ‘Body and Soul’. What fascinates me in her practice is its hybridity – she works with a very specific methodology, often using large-format cameras. She also interrogates the various uses of photography – vernacular, sacred, constructed- to build her own language. Her images are both meticulously composed and deeply symbolic.

Wolfgang Tillmans is another key figure for me. He opened the door to a diverse range of photographic language nearly forty years ago, and he remains highly relevant today. Both in his conceptual thinking and in the way he presents images, he exhibits a freedom and bravery that remain inspiring.

I’m also very drawn to Frida Orupabo’s work. Her use of collage works beautifully with many of the themes her work speaks to, such as fragmentation, history, and identity. And, in a different register, I find the work of Anhar Salem – recent winner of the Reiffers Art Initiatives prize – compelling. Unlike Orupabo’s work, Salem crafts images by blending various other images, frequently using AI to build a unique form of visual mythology. It’s fascinating to see how these two artists explore the body and image-making through such different yet equally powerful means.

LVH Art: ⁠Can you discuss how in 2002, you changed the way catalogues were presented at Phillips auction house? What changes did you make, and why did you believe it was the best approach?

Matthieu Humery: When I arrived at Phillips in 2002, I had no prior experience in the auction world. My background was in fashion and runway production. So, I approached the catalogue not from a traditional auction perspective, but from a visual and editorial one. I asked myself: how do we make this object more seductive? How do we stand out from our competitors?

It was clear to me that the look and feel of the catalogue had to change. The catalogue couldn’t just be a neutral sales tool – it had to be an extension of the work itself. So, we changed the format, enlarged it, redesigned the layout, refined the paper stock, gave more space to the images, and introduced short essays. It was about giving the works the editorial dignity they deserved. And it worked. That bold format made us immediately more visible in a crowded market. So much so that the large-format catalogue approach was quickly adopted across other departments at Phillips.

LVH Art: ⁠How has the photography market evolved over the years?

Matthieu Humery: The photography market has changed enormously and developed relatively late. It wasn’t really until the 1970s that auction houses began to structure photography sales in a serious way – thanks in large part to pioneering figures like Philippe Garner or Harry Lunn. Before that, the market was small, almost confidential. Even the major museums were making few purchases, and when they did, it was for relatively small amounts—MoMA, for example, was acquiring works by Lee Friedlander and Diane Arbus for about $200.

Over time, the market gradually organized itself around key names from the 19th and 20th centuries. The great collections were formed – many of which have since entered institutions and remain there. What’s also particular about photography collectors is that they tend to be deeply passionate, often emotionally attached to their works, and they rarely sell individual prints. As a result, the availability of major vintage prints from the 19th and 20th centuries has dramatically decreased. These works now often change hands privately, and increasingly as part of full collections rather than single works.

For contemporary photography, the dynamics are different. Competing with painting on the primary market is difficult—pricing, visibility, and fashion trends all play a role. But photography, like everything in art, moves in cycles. It’s a medium that is uniquely responsive to the present, and that gives it a timeless relevance.

LVH Art: ⁠Are there any photography fairs or photography-related events you would recommend for someone interested in immersing themselves in the world of photography?

Matthieu Humery: I’m not fond of isolating photography from other mediums—I’ve always preferred it as part of the broader art conversation. That’s why I appreciate seeing strong photography presentations at art fairs like Art Basel, TEFAF or Frieze, as it is there where it resonates most through its dialogue with other forms.

That said, there are of course dedicated events that are essential. Paris Photo remains the annual gathering point—it’s the most established and comprehensive fair devoted entirely to photography. And then there’s photo festival Les Rencontres d’Arles, which in my view, is the most intelligent and daring photography festival in the world, which offers a truly comprehensive exploration of the medium. Arles invites you to slow down, to spend time with the image, providing a richer form of engagement and connection.

LVH Art: In 2020, you curated Henri Cartier-Bresson: Le Grand Jeu at Palazzo Grassi, a show that later traveled to the BnF in Paris in 2021. For this exhibition, you invited five leaders from different fields to each select around 50 works from the archive, presenting five distinct visions on the collection. What motivated you to involve such a range of perspectives?

Matthieu Humery: For Le Grand Jeu, I wanted to move away from the format of a traditional monographic exhibition. Two major and beautifully curated retrospectives had already taken place, at the Centre Pompidou in 2014 with Clément Chéroux, and at MoMA in 2010 with Peter Galassi. Rather than offering yet another narrative about Cartier-Bresson’s life and work, I was more interested in exploring how his work is perceived – how it’s understood, interpreted, even projected upon. The idea wasn’t to define his oeuvre, but to open it up, to liberate it from any singular, official reading.

Cartier-Bresson himself had selected a group of 385 prints that he considered representative of his life’s work – the so-called Master Collection. Starting from that selection, I asked five individuals to create their own exhibitions, each choosing around 50 images. In a way, it became a project about perception: Cartier-Bresson shaping his own legacy, and others responding to it in turn.

The five participants each embodied a distinct point of view: François Pinault as the collector, Sylvie Aubenas as the museum curator, Annie Leibovitz as the photographer, Javier Cercas as the writer, and Wim Wenders as the filmmaker. Each brought not only their professional lens, but also something deeply personal. What emerged was a kind of curatorial mirror, an exhibition that reflected just as much about Cartier-Bresson as it did about the people interpreting him.

I’m drawn to that kind of layered perspective when curating—the goal is to create a space where an artist’s work can breathe, resonate, and generate new meaning, rather than simply be explained.

LVH Art: ⁠⁠In 2023, you curated the Chronorama exhibition at Palazzo Grassi, which showcased photographs and illustrations from the Condé Nast archives, that had been recently acquired by the Pinault Collection. As a curator, how would you define your primary responsibilities in terms of both presenting and preserving such an extensive archive?

Matthieu Humery: When I first began working on the Condé Nast archive, I was struck not only by its scale, but by its extraordinary richness and diversity. The range of genres that makes up the archive is exceptional: portraiture, fashion, architecture, still life, reportage… All the major photographic languages of the 20th century are represented. Then came the historical realisation: nearly every great photographer of the 20th century worked at some point for Condé Nast. The archive is not simply a record of editorial history – it’s a mirror of the century itself. And finally, the great quality of the prints themselves.

I realised this is no ordinary press archive. The Condé Nast collection carries a greater significance—it’s part of our shared cultural heritage and reflected the evolution of the modern gaze. From the moment I began working on the acquisition with the Pinault Collection, I felt strongly that this archive needed to be shared with the public – not just as documentation, but as a living history. That intuition led to Chronorama, which at its core was an exhibition that attempted to reveal the diversity of the archive, as well as to let singular photographs speak for themselves. The aim was to offer viewers an editorial, artistic, and emotional interpretation of the 20th century through the lens of this archive.

In Conversation with Kingsley Ifill about his captivating show at Hannah Barry Gallery

This month, LVH Art spoke with Kingsley Ifill about his multidisciplinary practice and his current exhibition at Hannah Barry Gallery, on view until May 17th. The show, titled Blue Roan carries a quiet intensity and intimate atmosphere, offering a diaristic quality that invites viewers to imagine fictional narratives— while also connecting the images to personal memory, emotion, and mortality. It’s one of the most compelling gallery shows on in London at the moment.

In the show Kingsley Ifill brings together images of snakes, birds, sleep, movement, and ritual—some screen-printed in acrylic onto raw surfaces, and others platinum palladium prints on handmade Japanese Washi paper, framed in intricately carved wooden frames.

The title, Blue Roan, comes from Romany slang, passed down from Ifill’s grandfather. It speaks to the blending of two distinct things into one. As Ifill puts it: “Non place as place. A name for the nameless. Neither here, nor there, but somewhere.” The exhibition becomes a meditation on that in-between space—a celebration of photography as both image and object, and a test of how far that object can be pushed.

Photography lies at the core of Ifill’s practice. Working primarily in 35mm—a habit that began with a disposable supermarket camera in his teens—he embraces the medium as a way to preserve memory and craft visual poetry

LVH Art: Are there recurring themes that you find yourself exploring in your work?

Kingsley Ifill: If there are, it’s not conscious. I like to imagine that I’m constantly moving and picking up the pieces as I go along, but whether the direction is in a straight line or an endless circle, I’m not sure. My focus is on putting one foot in front of the other and with enough walking, the path will become worn.  

LVH Art: In your current exhibition ‘Blue Roan’ at Hannah Barry Gallery, some recurring subjects are snakes, cropped nudes, and figures on horseback. What draws you to these specific visuals?

Kingsley Ifill: My studio in Kent is right next to the sea. Often when looking out at the landscape from the shore over the vast desert of water, I find myself experiencing a great level of comfort in acknowledging that the sight which I’m witnessing in that moment, is similar to the exact sight other living beings would of seen, for as long as we’ve been here and looking. A timeless beauty. I get the same satisfaction from each subject which you have mentioned. Bare skin, rattling snakes, horses pushing against the current. Each image has a story, or provides a clue and I’m confident that one day it will all add up to make sense.

LVH Art: On the ground floor of your exhibition at Hannah Barry Gallery, you presented a series of silkscreens—acrylic on canvas or linen. Can you talk us through your process for these works?

Kingsley Ifill: There’s a wide variety of processes involved. All of the works on show have existed within several different mediums or formats, before eventually finding their final resting place at this scale, printed with these methods. Through a journey almost purely based on instinct, until the image feels right. Which in some cases has taken over a decade to get from there to here. 

For example, a photo can initially be taken using a 35mm film camera, which I then process, print as a contact, make a silver gelatin print, reprint as silver gelatin using abstraction methods, tea tone, then Xerox the silver print, then risograph the zerox, then scan and crop, print as transparent, expose as a silkscreen. Repeat for several images and print using silkscreen on large stretched linen, combining several images as new “photography”. 

LVH Art: They’re not “perfect prints”—the ink often bleeds or soaks into the canvas. In Blue Roan (2015), for example, there are drips running down the canvas. What draws you to this effect?

Kingsley Ifill: I often feel like I’m a collaborator with the actual image or as if the image will do what it wants to do and my job is to simply keep my mind open to accept inspiration. I try not to rationalise. Or to put it even more clearly, the images and ideas are already there and I’m just a mediator. A bit like when Townes Van Zandt talked about how he wrote a song in his dream, woke up and started playing it. As if it had appeared from thin air. It’s the same with capturing the images in a camera too. All the images are there, you’ve just got to look and click the shutter. 

With Blue Roan, it’s technically a difficult image to print as the head of the horse is a deep back, with the dark river as the back ground. They blend into one. I spent days exposing different large 40×60” silkscreens and then even when they seemed crisp, it was still tough to work out the pressure and angel of the squeegee. I got the point where I’d almost given up. But through the failure and frustration, allowed a gap for chance, where I did certain things that I wouldn’t usually do. The drips came through attempting to thin out the paint from a failed print, which ultimately provided the base which I didn’t know I was searching for, until it appeared. To then built upon using silver paint and yet another silkscreen print. Completing the image. 

LVH Art: The exhibition shifts upstairs to featuring beautifully framed photographs. Can you talk about your selection process for these photographs, and what influenced your decision around the framing?

Kingsley Ifill: They’re photographs which I’ve taken over the last 15 years. Images I feel are strong enough to exist individually, without support from each other. Like single chapters from a book of short stories. 

The frames I carved myself by hand over different points in the last five years. The contrast of time between the two acts interests me. Some of the photographs would be been taken in a 1/1000th of a second, whereas the tree may have taken a couple of hundred years to grow before being cut and dried. And then a week or two of solid work to carve each one. The washi paper was produced using the same process in Japan, with water from the same river, that’s been used for over a thousand years. 

The platinum palladium prints, I made myself too. The process took me a long time to work out. Several years. And the archival properties of the print are 1000+ years, or supposedly forever. So essentially, although the image was brief moment, it could potentially live forever if placed in suitable conditions. 

LVH Art: Your work often plays with omission and the use of empty space. How do you approach composition, and think about absence and fragmentation?

Kingsley Ifill: There’s no right or wrong. And photography is more about what you crop, rather than what you include. I heard someone once say that poetry isn’t in the words, it’s in the space between the lines. Room for the mind and imagination. 

LVH Art: Have there been any artists, from the past or present, who have particularly inspired you or who you are thinking about a lot lately? What is it about their work that speaks to you?

Kingsley Ifill: Always. I’m forever thinking about Bruce Nauman. In particular with this show, I kept going back to his large scale installation, Room With My Soul Left Out. Room That Does Not Care, which was a big inspiration for my piece Chrysalis. Dekoonings early brushstrokes, which I saw in Venice last summer and how they drag themselves dry. Ad Reinhardt’s darker works and the way colours merge, floating into black and need to be experienced in person. Just like the subtle tones of platinum palladium.

LVH Art: Looking back, how has your practice evolved over the years? Are there any new mediums or themes you’re excited to explore in the future, or is there something in particular you’re excited about coming up?

Kingsley Ifill: It’s become more concentrated. For a while I was interested in finding or “taking” images, but now I’m only using my own photographs which I’ve taken using a camera. I’m excited to make the book for this show, which I’ll produce by hand in my studio. I’d like to carve more too, go up in scale. Same with the platinum palladium prints, to see how they translate bigger. No grand plans though. With each new work, I feel like I see more clearly. And that’s my main interest, seeing and feeling more. 

A Design Dialogue: LVH Art speaks with Four Trailblazing Furniture Designers

This month at LVH Art, we had the pleasure of speaking with four exceptional furniture designers whose work we admire. Elliot Barnes, Ransom & Dunn, Nifemi Marcus-Bello and Studioutte each bring a unique perspective to their designs—creating pieces that are not only beautifully made but also rich with intention and artistry. We asked each designer four questions to dive deeper into their creative practices, uncover their inspirations, and explore the ever-evolving dialogue between art and design.

Elliot Barnes is a London-based British furniture designer who blurs the boundaries between industrial design and decorative art. Known for creating captivating pieces, Barnes’ work draws inspiration from the past while forging a bold, unconventional future. The term “usable sculpture” is frequently used to describe his designs and perfectly encapsulates Barnes’ approach—his ethereal pieces contrast the weight of heavy materials, blending striking visual appeal with functional form. While he’s reluctant to define a specific aesthetic—believing that a forward-thinking designer’s work should constantly evolve—his aim with each furniture piece is to uncover a mysterious element in an object that resonates with him, and hopefully with others as well.

Ransom & Dunn is a design brand specializing in lifestyle, interiors, and furniture, founded by American-born Londoners Johanna Dunn and Julia Ransom. Their work is a study in simplicity, texture, and contemporary forms, characterized by bold, modernist designs that are both tactile and refined. The Ransom & Dunn aesthetic blends elevated classics with striking statement pieces, drawing inspiration from their American roots and European sensibilities. Julia is a graduate of the School of Visual Arts in New York and Inchbald School of Design in London. Johanna is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania and received an MBA from the London Business School. Combined they have over three decades of experience in fashion, retail and finance, honed whilst living in both New York and London. This year, Ransom & Dunn will launch a full lighting collection, alongside new designs including a sofa, coffee table, slipper chair, side table, bed, and bedside table. The duo is also working on two residential projects—one in Milan and one in Miami.

Nifemi Marcus-Bello is the founder of Nmbello Studio, a commercial and artistic design studio guided by a philosophy that emphasises intuition, resourcefulness, and a deep connection to context. Marcus-Bello’s approach is defined by humility and a profound respect for materials and culture. With a strong connection to African design heritage, he engages with global narratives while honouring tradition and place. Rather than dictating outcomes, he facilitates a dynamic dialogue between material, function, and cultural significance. His work is informed by real-world interactions and human-centred insights, ensuring designs that are both authentic and impactful. His work and contributions sit in some of the most prestigious institutions, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, The Brooklyn Museum, New York, The Los Angeles County Museum, The Art Institute of Chicago, The Design Museum London and more, and this year he has also been shortlisted for the Loewe Craft Prize.

Studioutte is a Milan-based multidisciplinary practice founded in 2020 by Guglielmo Giagnotti and Patrizio Gola. Giagnotti, a former architect at Vincent Van Duysen, studied at the Polytechnic of Bari. After moving to Antwerp in 2015, Giagnotti specialized in luxury interiors and small to medium-scale architecture. Gola trained in interior design at the Politecnico di Milano. In 2017, Gola joined Dimorestudio, working on large-scale hospitality, retail, and residential projects. Despite their different backgrounds, the duo shared a common vision and understanding of each other’s aesthetic, leading them to create a studio where architecture, interiors, and furniture are seamlessly integrated into a unified design language. Drawing from Italian and vernacular traditions, their approach embraces warm minimalism, merging form and function into distilled, poetic spaces. Giagnotti and Gola’s design approach is focused on purity and primal essence, with each environment shaped by an emotional connection to its elements.

What sparked your passion for design, and when did it begin?

Elliot Barnes: Whilst I’ve always been interested in what makes a place or an object stand out against others, my introduction to furniture design was through necessity; I moved into a room with no furniture and my new flatmates had tools, scrap wood and an outdoor space to make things. Whilst the resulting pieces weren’t exactly design classics, the process of watching tutorials online and getting stuck in to trying things started me obsessively researching design, drawing and attempting to produce work that I wasn’t completely despairing of.

Julia Ransom & Johanna Dunn: Our passion for design sparked well before the sensation of Pinterest when we began to travel as teenagers and young adults. Travel has an ability to broaden perspectives and inspire creativity. We both are very observant and detail oriented women who are deeply inspired by our surroundings –  the art, architecture,  nature, landscapes, local craft and traditions. Seeing how people live and interact with furniture, art and objects inspired us to create a brand and a design business that is an expression and reflection of our continual refining taste.  

Nifemi Marcus-Bello: My passion for design started through making. I started making at a very young age and did not find path design as a profession till a later age. Making started at 14 and my interest in becoming a designer started at 20. I studied Product design at the University of Leeds for both undergrad and masters and after graduating realised I was on the right path on doing this profession for the rest of my adult life. 

Guglielmo Giagnotti & Patrizio Gola: An accurate and constant observation: a sort of obsession with everything aesthetically valuable that surrounds us, architecture and design are everywhere: from a good movie to a casual object, from a pair of trousers to a window frame in the street. It’s a matter of intuitive sensibility that has always been in both of us in a spontaneous way, a sort of animistic devotion for any scale of “objects – pieces”.

In what ways has art played a role in shaping your designs or design approach, and how do you think art and design might influence each other?

Elliot Barnes: My work references design history a lot, and a large part of that will come from iconic interiors, where design and art play a similar role in being largely decorative elements in a scheme. Donald Judd’s non design works could often be shelving or lighting, and there is a great story of Peggy Guggenheim using Giacometti works as coat racks during parties. It is this sort of object that I would like to make; functional objects which have their own contextual presence, like an artwork might, and I often reference iconic artworks to convey this. Both art and design rely on a strange sort of poetry to be worthwhile in their own right. In my mind that poetry tends to arise from a combination of execution, context and beauty, each being subtly specific to each artist and each beholder. You know it when you see it, I rarely do.

Julia Ransom & Johanna Dunn: Art and design are deeply intertwined and both play a role in shaping and responding to the world around us. The use of colour, forms and textures is often a starting point to thinking about an object should look, feel or perform. Contemporary artists and designers often have shared references from historical art or design movements, and there are cultural trends and movements that inspire both practices. We personally reference the shapes of Imi Knoebel, the texture of Pierre Soulages and the palette of Rothko. 

Nifemi Marcus-Bello: Even though I grew up making, I spent most of my spare time indoors drawing and painting. Infact I painted so much that my mother kept pushing me to study art. So before studying design, I studied a foundation course in Art History in the hopes of majoring in History of Art, becoming an artist or a curator. Fast forward to studying design at a technical design school (School of Mechanical Engineering, University of Leeds). I don’t think I ever got rid of my artistic precedence and do think I ever will. In my own humble opinion, good design has an element of art to it, this is what takes care of the emotional side to the experience of the product. 

Guglielmo Giagnotti & Patrizio Gola: Art has a crucial part in our first approach to design and spatial composition, it sensibly influences the phase of brainstorming and concept. In many aspects some names are radically architectural: Tapiès, Oteiza, Heizer, Ungers, Vandenhove and many others.. It’s a mutual influence with different aims. Design is often softening art, diluting its freedom into function. Art sometimes radicalizes design. It demolishes, digests and splits it back with a new sense.

In your opinion, what are the factors that makes an object stand out as a well-designed piece?

Elliot Barnes: Beauty is a difficult thing to define with design as it’s meant to be practical so often the beauty aspect come through the line of thinking that solves a problem in an intelligent or resourceful way, in combination with the final ‘look’ of the piece. Execution is variable also, some of the best design works have the ‘my toddler could have made that’ factor, but that is what makes them interesting contextually and their casual or primitive production is exactly what makes them beautiful. 

Julia Ransom & Johanna Dunn: The key elements we look for are in a great piece are – proportion and scale, use of materials, practicality and quality.  

Nifemi Marcus-Bello: This is a tricky question as everything has and needs a bit of context to be experienced and understood. But in another humble opinion design stands out when it is considerate through its inception and completion. 

Guglielmo Giagnotti & Patrizio Gola: When it is difficult to get from which period it is from. When you can still read the sense of archetype in it, when you can reed a process of refinement and deduction in it. When is timeless, when is absolute.

Is there a specific material that excites you the most to work with, and what about it resonates with you right now?

Elliot Barnes: I had the chance to work with cast glass recently, which was a revelation. It does magical things with light, almost like freezing the reflections across water in a useable surface. It is also a hugely difficult material to produce, which makes it quite rare and special to see in domestic settings. I work a lot with stainless steel as it is simultaneously quite industrial and somehow refined. With the right polish it can emulate silvered surfaces, and takes on the colour surrounding it which is an interesting tension. 

Julia Ransom & Johanna Dunn: Currently we are captivated by the use of glass and exploring ways to make it feel modern.  

Nifemi Marcus-Bello: I love metal and the process of sand casting because of the intimacy between the material, the human hand and the earth. Sand Casting preserves the marks of making—the textures, the flaws, the traces of touch—which makes each piece feel alive and human. It’s a reminder that creation isn’t just about precision or polish, but about presence. Right now, as the boundary between digital and physical narrows, I think these kinds of tactile, earth-rooted practices are more important than ever.

Guglielmo Giagnotti & Patrizio Gola: Since our goal is being focused on the sense of primal essence of forms, using natural material is the only way to reach a controlled expressivity. Natural materials, with their imperfections and patina change and transform with time. Sometimes we like to play with the duality of a material, for example a very plain wood that looks like paper/parchment, a very aged and oxidized copper that looks like marble and so on.. 

In Conversation with Max Boyla on the Importance of Experimentation

This month, LVH Art spoke with Max Boyla, a Scottish-Turkish artist based in London, to learn about his affinity to using satin, his experimental approach, and the inspirations that drive his work.

Boyla’s work is currently featured in Hauser & Wirth’s Somerset exhibition, An Uncommon Thread, running until April 21, 2025. He also has a work in New Contemporaries at the Institute of Contemporary Arts (ICA), which closes on March 23, 2025. He is part of a group exhibition opening at Sim Smith on March 20th, running until April 19th, 2025. LVH Art also showcased Max’s work There is no key, you have to sing in our last exhibition, “Double Take,” which ran from May 30 to July 22, 2024.

Boyla’s creative process is highly physical, often involving twisting and wrapping fabric on the floor. He speaks of his practice as if he’s engaging with living, breathing matter. While each of his works is unique, they share common themes: the exploration of illusion, the fleeting nature of existence, and the complexities of consumerism. His canvas’ conjure abstract cosmologies—surreal landscapes that seem to shift before the viewer’s eyes, transforming with changing light or as one moves around them.

LVH Art: What attracts you to working with satin?

Max Boyla: I guess I’m a bit of a magpie, I like to collect things that I’m drawn to. I was in my second year of studying at the RA, and was playing around with different materials that I had accumulated. Exploring synthetics at the time, I came across this satin; then, all of a sudden, it became a core element of my practice. The unique quality of the material highlighted certain conceptual aspects that I was thinking about. I love the lustrous sheen of this particular satin. I think in part, it has to do with wanting to achieve a physical interaction with the person viewing it, in that I wanted the work’s presence to shift, as one moves around and the light changes; to make something that you can’t really capture in a photograph, that comes alive when you stand in front of it.

I also often think of satin as a ready-made, with its own history; a mass-produced synthetic material made of petroleum that’s closely tied to consumerism. Something about the satin just has a touch of kitsch to it in the best way that other materials don’t possess.

LVH Art: How important is experimentation to your practice? Just looking around the studio I can see lots of buckets of ink and chemical mixtures. 

Max Boyla: I’m always trying something new or trying to figure something out. I feel that experimentation is really at the core of my practice. In terms of all the buckets, this is tied to a kind of alchemy in a way. I see my work as this sort of semi-self-aware spiritual endeavour. This idea to will something into existence through these kinds of mixtures, feels slightly spiritual and alchemical to me at times. 

‍

LVH Art: I’ve read that you’ve referred to your paintings as an illusion—could you elaborate on this? 

Max Boyla: I guess what I mean with illusion is that I’m very removed from the paintings in a way. My works are mostly all folded, twisted, soaked and sprayed. They go through all these various very physical hands-on processes, yet there’s no gesture of the hand in it. Instead of painting on a surface, the surface is moving around the paint. 

My work also revolves around exploring different dimensions. Much like how the Cubists tried to capture the fourth dimension to explore time and space, I aim to subtly convey these different dimensional qualities in my works. When I shape and mold the forms, I’m working in the third-dimension, as it’s very physical and on the floor and it takes up a physical space. Then once it’s dried and stretched it becomes flat and technically two-dimensional. So you see this three-dimensional reality in a two-dimensional way, hypothetically giving you a fourth-dimensional vantage point. So when a viewer is present and moves around it, the work transforms and activates in relation to their movement. I’m exploring how things change and evolve over time, so the concept of perception and illusion plays a central role in my work in that way. 

LVH Art: Could you walk us through your process? Do you begin with a plan, or is it more spontaneous? 

Max Boyla: In my studio, there’s a large sheet of canvas spread out on the floor, which serves as my painting environment or “zone.” I usually work directly on the floor, and sometimes hang the fabric in various positions. Afterwards I might crop it and stretch it over a canvas or on the wall to see how it’s developing. Sometimes I work with a loose plan, but some of the best works I have made are the ones that I’m very surprised by – the ones that emerge. If I know what a painting will look like before I make it, then it can feel like it has this dead quality to it that I’m not as interested in. I also try never to repeat works directly. Repetition and duplicity already have an important role to play.   

LVH ART: How long does it usually take you to create your works? 

Max Boyla: It’s hard to say as every work is different. I kind of work in these bursts of energy and liveliness. I often question my work for a long time, like is this the direction I want to take it in, or is this the right palette or size.. I sometimes take one thing, such as a colour or size and use that as a springboard to action. Then the actual making is often quite quick and can be somewhat chaotic, even though it feels direct and specific at the same time. For example, sometimes I will be in the studio most of the day thinking through work, and then I will realise that I need to get a certain train and leave in 20 minutes. I then get this pressurized moment and burst of energy where I have to make decisive actions and trust my intuition. Then the next day I will unfold what I have done, and sometimes if it’s still wet I will alter its course if I can see a work is not doing something well or becoming too obvious in a way.

LVH Art: It sounds like you’re working with another living entity in a way. 

Max Boyla: For sure, when I work the satin feels like it’s very much alive. Sometimes when a piece simply doesn’t work I’ll redye it, scrub it, crop parts of it, or have to just entirely give up on it, for a while at least. Sometimes it’s these works that I am wrestling with for a while that turn into quite interesting things. In my studio I have a whole pile of satin works that I have put to the side that are “in the balance.” 

LVH Art: Is there a specific reason why you gravitate towards a larger scale in your practice? 

Max Boyla: I do make smaller works, but right now making larger works interests me more because they feel more all-enveloping. They are able to achieve this idea of presence, when a person stands and moves in front of the work. In a way I feel like my works are as close to installation as they are to painting, because they’re so reactive to an environment, while also having the ability to produce or emanate one. They feel like they can exist in different conditions than a normal painting. I also quite like the idea of paintings in the way that they’re only alive when you’re there, and right now I am able to achieve that better through a larger scale.

‍

LVH Art: How do you go about titling your works? 

Max Boyla: Quite a lot of my titles come from songs actually, lyrics or titles. Or sometimes someone will just say something and it is kind of strangely poetic, so I’ll write it down and then recall it as a title later. For example the work that was in the LVH show, There is no key, you have to sing, was from a random moment. It came from when I was visiting my partner’s grandmother and went to use the bathroom, and when I was in there she shouted through “there is no key, you have to sing,” as in sing so no one comes in accidentally because there isn’t a lock. I wrote it down somewhere just because I thought it was interesting on its own. Then also, with that work the pattern turned out slightly similar to the crochet blankets my partner’s grandmother crochets, so there was also that connection to her, so it felt even more “right” to title the work that way. Sometimes these things feel like they’re aligning and falling together in a very serendipitous way.

LVH Art: Does the work Fire of Love have to do with the documentary by any chance? 

Max Boyla: Yes, it ties into the film. It was such a good film about love, as well as volcanoes, destructive forces, fire and light, and some of those themes are really relevant to my work. When I watched that film I was starting to see my current partner, which I think in hindsight also contributed to the work. I also remember seeing a Patrick Heron exhibition and thinking I was really seeing colour for the first time in a way. I really wanted to capture a sense of vibrancy within that painting, so I used more red and orange tones, which is more of my partner’s favourite palette. At the time I was mainly using lilac, so having the red tones really contrasted and broke, and expanded what I was doing in a way. But I could not have told you any of this while I was making the work. It was just instinctual at the time, and now looking back I can tell you all of this in hindsight.

‍

LVH Art: Some of your works have this feeling of close-up shots, almost as if you’re observing something under a microscope, particularly A Chance to Bond, 2024 that is currently being shown at Hauser and Wirth Sommerset. Yet, they also have an expansive quality to them as well. Is this something you’ve thought about in your work?

Max Boyla: That’s definitely something I think about a lot. I want my works to have both a micro and macro quality, so they feel vast and celestial, almost like they’re tapping into that fourth-dimensional space. There’s this sci-fi element to them, something otherworldly. But at the same time, they also feel like they have a micro existence, almost like atoms or molecules. I kind of want all these possibilities to exist in my work. Not necessarily all in one work, but for my works to have this openness to them where people can bring their own thoughts. Like for Fire of Love, someone told me it looks like DNA, and I hadn’t even thought of that.

LVH Art: I noticed you created the SOS sign in the telephone booth next to the Royal Academy. I was quite surprised to learn that, as it’s not the medium I would typically associate with your work.

Max Boyla: I like this John Cage quote, “if all music is sound, then all sound can be music.” So I was kind of thinking about that in terms of materiality – if all paint is material, then all material can be used as paint. In that way I’m also quite interested in neon – it feels like you’re drawing or painting with almost pure light. It sort of touches on these ideas of consumerism and the history of advertising, that I also find intriguing. 

For the SOS sign the RA purchased those boxes from the phone company, and they wanted to do a rotation of students’ work in them, but I wrote this proposal that used all three phone boxes for one installation, which they really liked. It was installed during the time of COVID, and being stuck in a confined space, like the neon is on those phone boxes, felt highly relevant to that moment. It is also about communication, lapses, and dead technology. As phone boxes are becoming more and more obsolete, I found it interesting that they were designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott and read that the design was inspired by the tombstone of his wife. The title of the work “The Sound of Silence” is also a reference to a Simon Garfunkel song, though I’m more into The Chromatics cover.  

LVH Art: Have there been any artists, from the past or present, who have particularly inspired you or who you are thinking about a lot lately? 

Max Boyla: Yeah there’s loads. I think when I started getting into art I was fascinated by Rene Magritte and Marcel Broodthaers. I am also a big fan of Philip Guston and Louise Bourgeois. Then there is Bernard Piffaretti. I really like his work, also because he often works in a diptych format, which I often work with. I was amazed when I saw his work, and was surprised by how someone was doing diptychs as their “whole thing”.

LVH in Conversation with the Curator of Le Sirenuse, Silka Rittson-Thomas

^{Stanley Whitney, The Jitterberg Waltz, 2017, Photo by Roberto Salomone. Courtesy of Le Sirenuse}

Le Sirenuse hotel is a testament to the passage of time, shaped by generations of the Sersale family. Originally opened in 1951 when four Neapolitan siblings transformed their Positano summer home into a charming hotel, Le Sirenuse has evolved into a space where history and modernity coexist harmoniously. LVH goes into conversation with Le Sirenuse curator, Silka Rittson-Thomas about the historic hotel’s contemporary art collection.

LVH: Can you tell me about how the collection collaboration with Le Sirenuse began?

‍SILKA: Antonio Sersale approached me about 10 years ago wanting to acquire contemporary art for La Sirenuse. The hotel itself is a thing of beauty, compelling in its many layered histories and brought to bear over a long period of time. It reflects the exacting sensibilities of the family over generations .

Franco, the founder and father of Antonio, collected exquisite antiquities and artifacts that you see around the hotel today. So it was apparent to me from the beginning that if we did anything to contribute, it had to strike a considered balance between its historicity and its narratives to come. Therefore whichever artist we collaborated with would have to respond to what exists already and be able to tease out contemporary poetics in a way that would honour the past.  This led me to think about how we could bring artists to respond to the specifics of the hotel and its exceptional attention to detail – the service, the beauty, the warmth, the familiar energy and to the incredible nature of the Costiera, the hotel being a capsule of intimacy .

The program we have formulated involves many conversations between Antonio and I on the artists I suggest, which is then followed by meetings with artists, their galleries and studio visits

Over a period of time , we  have developed a good formula. The artists are invited to stay at the hotel prior to the start of the project , and are immersed in the Sireneuse experience during their visit, returning to their studios with a cache of ideas to work with. We don’t approach the artists with preconceived ideas. The location of the work is something we arrive at organically. The artist finds the spot or the spot finds the artist.

LVH: What approach was taken to merge contemporary art with the historic atmosphere of Le Sirenuse?

‍SILKA: The process evolved very naturally. I felt that it would be nice to create a program where artists organically respond to the Italian sentiment quite directly. Antonio is an exuberant person with a terrific sense of humour and wit and you see that run through quite a few works at the hotel. There is an air of happiness, laughter and unbridled opulence and yet at the same time it is quiet and private in its own way.

The hotel is really a conversation place. Movements and conversations are always taking place; the family are very engaged with their guests and it is a very intimate feeling. It was important to me to extend the same sentiment with the contemporary art; to retain a sense of permanence, but also constantly evolving. A constant breath of new ideas coming in while retaining its old world solidity and elegance so to speak.

So it is a democratic experiment with a varied lexicon of references in art, always in dialogue with the atmosphere of the hotel.

LVH: What is the process for selecting artworks?

‍SILKA: In terms of  selecting artists, we look at artists from whose work we sense a natural connection to the place, without any overt links to it. There is an undeniable sense of humor and artisanal reference points in all the artists we work with. Everything at Le Sirenuse goes back to conversation and I choose artists that I feel are able to sustain that in interesting ways in their work.

For example, when we first started the collection, I started thinking about Martin and his neons, and how Italy is such a bastion of the neon classically. From the 1920’s onwards, neon was on the Campari advertisements, or streets of Turin, there is neon present everywhere grabbing attention. Antonio and the Sersale family are always energetic and thoughtful,  highly attentive about everything, so the neon ‘Don’t Worry’ is a great set up, subtly ameliorating. It was the first multicolor neon that Martin did, and was a beautiful introduction to the collection – during the day you don’t really notice it, and then as night falls it begins to glow.

‍

LVH: How is the cultural and historical context (genius loci) of Positano and the Amalfi Coast taken into consideration when selecting art for the hotel?

SILKA: There are very direct references to the locality. Like with Martin and the neon, the vibrant age old tradition of advertising and marketing in Italy; Caragh Thuring’s work is so direct and humorous with artisanal references. She has traditionally worked with the undercurrent of the broody unknowns of submarines and volcanoes. Her fabric work for example is a direct link- the piece is made from an existing fabric she had, woven in Suffolk, but it is based on a tile that she had found in a monastery somewhere outside of Naples. This recreation of the volcano imagery is absurd because there is a volcano spitting out, while a sailboat sails calmly underneath. Then you have these figures, resembling the old Vesuvian postcards, where people admire and explore the volcano, while it is erupting! It’s completely nonsensical, but also humorous. Caragh picked her spot and rearranged the room with Antonio. What I love is the insertion of these gesso paintings into the folds of the bar, which then extends that absurdist humor, where one volcano looks like a sprig of rosemary, referencing the wild herbs and cuisine of the region. It became it’s own unit of witty playfulness.

‍Matt Connors is another wonderful example. For his panels he dissected all the colors in the hotel. I think there are about 96 different colors in those panels. But then the surface is Formica, which is a typical Italian kitchen surface. It is a very 60’s material; robust and traditional to Italian kitchen craftsmanship. Lucy Stein, who made the menus for Aldo’s bar, references the mystic siren very playfully. She depicts various moods of a siren, from mischievous to angry, to a cheeky one with a cocktail.

Alex Israel’s mural is a direct reference to the glamour of Amalfi and the Dolce Vita. This one I love because it is an instant juxtaposition between reveries of Hollywood and the fantasy of the Amalfi Coast. The play of the palms, and the vegetation of Le Sirenuse is so specific and so special as though a mirage. Rita (Ackerman) does not want to reveal too much about the two female figures in her paintings, but you have the sun bursting out of the hearts of these Siren like women, capturing them, trying to catch them, in a very mystical way. Stanley Whitney’s work was an obvious choice because his work is so akin to the squares of the tiles. The tiles are such an important element, not just at the Le Sirenuse, but on the Amalfi Coast. Every tile in the hotel  is made from local makers. I love the musicality and the dance of the (Stanley) tiles – the work is aptly titled The Jitterberg Waltz, a title also alluring to the I Galli Island, formerly the residence of Léonide Massine and later Rudolf Nureyev

LVH: The Nicolas Party pool is the latest installation. Can you tell us about the collaboration? What is the inspiration and dialogue between the pool and its location on the Amalfi Coast.

‍SILKA: We began the conversation with Nicolas Party right when COVID hit, so overall the pool has been four to five years in the making. Nicolas doesn’t shy away from exploring materials, for example in the past he has worked with bronze and marbling techniques using varied forms of craftsmanship. Although he had not yet experimented with mosaics before, it fit his practice so well. The pool was ready for a redo and it was the perfect timing for this to fall into place. Nicolas is the only artist where the project had a very specific brief to work on and a very defined space.

He really loves to collaborate with the craftsmen. The mosaic tiles were chosen with great care as a reference to the Pompeii and Roman histories, therefore locating a strong link with traditional artisanship in the contemporary. His relationship with the tile makers was a dynamic back and forth, as he had to arrange the pixels exactly the way that he felt was right with the color ranges he had in mind according to the Bisazza tiles.

‍

LVH: What is the process behind acquiring artworks for Le Sirenuse?

‍SILKA: Every work for Le Sirenuse is specially commissioned. This is possible because of my long term working relationships with the artists and their galleries. This is an area that requires a great deal of trust on both sides. Most artists we work with have defined practices but they are also open to collaboration and experimentation; site specificity is as important to them as it is to us. In this there is a risk we take on both sides. The artist leaves once the work is done, the location is remote, and the works are permanent as we do not rotate the works. The acquisitions of the works are really about the relationships we enjoy and hope the hotel guests do in turn.

‍

In Conversation with Viola Leddi

Working between Milan and Geneva, Viola Leddi’s works are explorations of girlhood and disillusionment. The artist takes inspiration from a vast range of sources: from history of art, to the very personal experience of anxiety and nightmares.

The precise, nearly digital, finish of her figurative paintings is achieved through an extensive study into the processes of painting. Starting with hand drawn sketches on which she explores colour combinations with the help of digital tools, she continues on the canvas alternating between crisp lines and air brushed finishes.

Blurring the lines between hallucinations and memory, the paintings question the very capacity of visualising things through her eerie, yet meticulously constructed environments. Her canvases are filled with symbols, and she constructs her own choreography of signs which has become her unique visual language. 

This month we sat down with Viola Leddi to discuss her creative process, tensions between the digital world and physical world, and her involvement in our upcoming exhibition, ‘Double Take’.

LVH: Your works explore the themes of memory, dreaming and nostalgia. How do you come up with your dream-like compositions? 

VL: Recently, I’ve developed a strong interest in the concept of vision and visibility, encompassing their broader implications – historical, political, and scientific alike. My paintings employ collage techniques, empirical perspectives, and mixed viewpoints, all of which aim, to some degree, to challenge the very act of visualisation. I’m intrigued by the tension between visibility and intimacy, which is why I evoke references to self-narration, DIY practices, and relational dimensions in my paintings, positioning them as “resistant” practices against a backdrop of hyper-visibility and surveillance.

‍

LVH: We will be including one of your works in our upcoming London exhibition, ‘Double Take’, which will explore the theme of perception in the contemporary age. Some might assume from a first glance that your works are digitally created when in reality you have meticulously employed airbrush techniques to create your compositions. Could you speak about this visual tension?

VL: I was introduced to the use of airbrushing by my mother, who is a graphic designer. Her early works in the 1980s were all done with an airbrush. The result of airbrushing is somewhat akin to digital painting, but unlike the latter, it’s more “warm” because it’s entirely handcrafted. I believe this difference is especially noticeable when viewing my works in person. The idea of mimicking the language of machines and digital art by hand fascinates me because it allows me to reflect on the processes of translation and reproduction of images, signs, and gestures. The translation and reproduction of images in my works, besides being a tool for understanding and studying images and their effects, in some cases, becomes a tribute and an act of care. For example, I love reproducing images from the personal archives of my friends, drawings, diary pages, and biographical elements in my works because I like the idea of leaving their mark on the canvas.

LVH: Before you begin a painting, you start with preliminary sketches and then transpose them onto Photoshop to experiment with colour palettes. Could you speak about why you choose to use technology in your preparatory process?

VL: I enjoy using software to visualise and design paintings; it’s much faster and easier to experiment with various colour schemes and compositions. For the past few months, I’ve also been using an iPad. However, the moment of conceiving the basic design has always been, and still is, very intimate for me. Only on paper, strictly A5-sized, and with the use of a pencil, can I bring out my subjects. I must also have a specific inner disposition to draw, to be able to immerse myself in my own bubble for a while.

‍

LVH: As a young artist, what are your thoughts on the recent rise of Artificial Intelligence and image generation tools? Do you see it as a potential threat to artistic creation? Or even a tool that can be used?

VL: I’m not currently using image generation tools in my work. I’ve only tried DALL-E a couple of times and was amazed by the results, especially considering the significant improvement they’ve undergone in just a few years. If we consider how machine learning works, simplifying, we know that these technologies generate new images by utilising learned patterns from the data they’ve been trained on, and combining these patterns to create an image that is coherent with a given prompt. It’s a computational, rational process. I’m not sure how these technologies will evolve, but as of today, I feel like I’m doing something very different, and I don’t feel threatened by them.

‍

LVH: What future projects do you have lined up?

VL: At the moment, I’m preparing for my first institutional exhibition, which will take place in France at the FRAC Champagne-Ardenne in Reims in October. Next year, I will open my first exhibition in China at the TAG Museum in Qingdao.

Double Take, the latest exhibition curated by Lawrence Van Hagen, will open in Mayfair, London next month. More details to be revealed soon. Viola Leddi is represented by VIN VIN Vienna / Naples.

LVH in conversation with WangShui

We find ourselves in a moment when many artists are speaking out about their fears surrounding the rapid evolution of technology and artificial intelligence and the potential impact it might have on the art world. WangShui (b. 1986, Dallas, Texas), however, is an artist who thinks the exact opposite.

Choosing to fully embrace technology and AI in their creative process, WangShui explores the hallucinatory states between detail and distance, transparency and opacity, knowing and unknowing. WangShui’s utterly unique aluminium canvases are visually striking and transform depending on the light around them. We sat down with the artist this month to discuss their upcoming debut at the Venice Biennale and their thoughts on the current conversations surrounding technology and AI.

LVH: While many artists seem to be afraid of technology and how it’s evolving, you are an artist that chooses to fully embrace technology and its potential to enhance the creative process. Can you speak about your relationship with technology and how it influences your art?

WangShui: It’s impossible for me not to contend with our obsession with data at this point in history. Integrating different modes of technology in my work are just ways to understand the transmission of that data and how it augments our desires.

LVH: For your paintings, you made the decision to swap out a typical canvas in place of pieces of aluminium. Could you speak about how you utilise aluminium and what it was about raw, industrial materials that excites you?

WangShui: The aluminium panels have an important relationship to digital screens in how they project light from within. The abrasion and painting process is a way for me to both reveal and conceal that light.

‍

LVH: One of your aluminium works – ‘Description of Ambiguous Congress’ (2023) – is currently at the Guggenheim in New York as part of their group show, ‘Going Dark: The Contemporary Figure at the Edge of Visibility’. Could you speak about the particular piece and what the “edge of visibility” means to you?

WangShui: I’m interested in the more peripheral dimensions of perception. Images that require de-focalized viewing, for example, reach much richer dimensions of our consciousness than easily identifiable subjects.

LVH: Artificial Intelligence is everywhere in the media right now. As someone who integrates generative AI into their process, could you speak about some of the misconceptions people may have about it and why you choose to use it?

WangShui: I have no interest in the media’s obsession with the binary opposition between human and machines. Machines have already surpassed humans in terms of processing power so it’s time to cultivate these generative tools. I hope AI can eventually fix our sad species.

LVH: Beyond the Venice Biennale, what future projects do you have lined up?

WangShui: I have a solo exhibition with Kurimanzutto gallery in New York coming up and I will also be partaking in the Sharjah Biennial.

In Conversation with Kristy M Chan

Kristy M Chan is a talented artist who was born in Hong Kong in 1997 and currently splits her time between London and her hometown. Her artwork is deeply rooted in observation, drawing inspiration from her experiences of migration and displacement, as well as the many cultural differences she has encountered in her travels.

One of the defining characteristics of Chan’s work is its consciously absurdist and satirical temperament. Her pieces often feature surreal elements and vividly bright colours, creating a kaleidoscopic effect that mirrors the dizzying cadence of contemporary life. Through her use of oil and oil sticks, she synthesizes together the dissonant, adventitious, and sometimes surreal junctures she experiences. Chan’s work is heavily influenced by her experiences of trying to find a sense of home while moving between, and originating from, differing cultural geographies. Her paintings are densely built-up and depart from her own experiences of navigating cultural differences, often incorporating vibrant colours that reflect her own unique perspective. Overall, Kristy M Chan’s work is a compelling exploration of cultural differences, migration, and displacement, all brought to life through her unique and vivid artistic style.

‍

LVH: You split your time between Hong Kong and London. Could you tell us about how your connection to Eastern and Western cultures has informed your identity as an artist and the work you create?‍

KC: It’s probably the appreciation for both cultures that have shaped me and my work. From the nuances in how people converse, and the differences between British and Cantonese humour, to my various failures in translating silly jokes. All these social interactions largely inform the concept of many pieces. I often give a Cantonese or Chinese title to the work I make in Hong Kong as a way of connecting with where I grew up in the past and present.

LVH: The art world has become entwined with social media in recent years. How do you approach being an artist in our digital age and how do you navigate building an audience online?

KC: I go online only for entertainment, reels and whatnot, I’m slightly addicted to them, but it should end there. It’s much more rewarding to see shows in person. Physical objects and film give so much more when they are seen and experienced in the flesh. Perhaps being a painter makes me appreciate the tactility of things a bit more too. In terms of building an audience online, all artists have different approaches. I think we all tend to show a bit of our personality and what we like. I tend to share works in progress, other artists’ works that I like and an occasional meme.

‍

LVH: Throughout your career, your work has oscillated between the genres of figuration and abstraction. How do you navigate this transition? Do you feel like you can fully embrace the two genres?

KC: The transition came quite naturally. My figures were getting progressively more abstract at the end of 2021. It suddenly felt much more genuine and expressive when I painted abstractly. I was paying more attention to the painterly aspects and the time spent with the canvas felt increasingly substantial. Now, I paint abstractly with a figurative image in mind.

LVH: You’ve previously mentioned your fascination with the experimental techniques of German painters, such as Sigmar Polke. How has this informed your own relationship with experimenting with materials?

KC: I’ve been using some photochromic pigments which react to UV light. I’ve also used creatine and blood in other paintings, but I’m hoping to try experimenting with more reactive chemical materials in 2023/4.

‍

LVH: Your most recent works explore the themes of the excess and overindulgence of contemporary urban life and behavior. What inspired this?

KC: That came from my very indulgent summer in 2022. I decided to spend most of my summer in London and pretty much said yes to anything that mildly suggested fun. It was great but I find myself constantly chasing for the next high and struggled to enjoy downtime. It got me thinking about our margins versus societal definitions of overindulgence. I’d also like to think it was a successful attempt at materialising and drawing a line under certain things I was wrestling with.

LVH: What’s next for you in 2023?

KC: I’ve got a few group shows lined up around Asia and Europe, and I’m looking forward to working at the Beecher Residency in November.

‍

WHAT’S UP/ HONG KONG ‘Women in Abstraction’
is on view between 20.03.2023 – 25.03.2023
at 6/F Pedder Building, Hong Kong

‍

In Conversation with Leonardo Meoni

Florence born artist Leonardo Meoni (b.1994) explores the dynamic relationship between creation and destruction, what is concealed and what can be revealed through his images and mediums.

Meoni’s technique does not involve adding or subtracting material, but instead focuses on manipulating the fibers to reveal or conceal elements, creating ambiguity and fluidity between creative and destructive forces. The concept of borders is central to his work. The marks made on velvet exist in a liminal space, shifting between presence and absence. His work questions the boundaries between light, shadow, and imagery, challenging viewers to look beyond the surface.

LVH: How does the material velvet hold significance to you?

LEO: Velvet itself is not so significant for me. Actually I believe that this material is more of a frustration. It is difficult for it to be discovered, it is rare for a painting to arrive immediately without being cancelled at least 3/4 times. What is especially interesting to me is the way velvet can obscure and reveal, which mirrors my themes of concealment, removal, and revelation. Velvet allows you to bring to a higher level of ambiguity because it absorbs light and even sounds.

Velvet is linked to where I have my studio, Prato. Prato has somehow always been linked to fabric: used clothes and other fabrics arrived in Prato from all over the world and took on a new life and form. Foreign objects were often found within these shipments of fabric, such as American dollars, incense sticks from India, seashells, etc. Prato becomes a sort of ethnological museum inside the textile factories. All these foreign influences have travelled to Prato and into my works. This idea of giving something discarded a second chance strongly goes with my approach to both velvet and the images I work with, where I often reveal hidden or forgotten stories.

‍

LVH: What is the connection between your mediums and your imagery?

LEO: The images or shapes I choose are in an intrinsic dialogue with the material. When depicted in velvet, the images become almost sculptural. The static images are always related to movement: I often depict things that have been moved from one place to another, or destroyed to be rebuilt in a new form.

“I am addicted to images: There is too much light, there are too many useless images, there is a kind of fiction, a masquerade at play. I can only lose myself and fall in love with hidden and obscure images.”
Excerpt from Meoni’s Los Angeles exhibition, Amanita, March 2024

‍‍

LVH: How do you select the images and references you depict?

LEO: I often select images based on stories or from archives I’ve built over time. In the beginning of my work, I was (and still am) fascinated by markings, drawings, and other traces – intentional or unintentional – on new and historical walls, pavements, building facades etc. A lot of those museums were ones I worked in during my early twenties in Florence. I’m drawn to the idea of obscured or removed figures, like the destroyed or relocated statues. I once painted an oven-hut that I read about in an article. This nomadic South American tribe rebuilt a new oven every time they moved, and left the old oven in the previous place. The title of the work is ‘Temporary oven’. The process of choosing an image isn’t always straightforward, often it’s spontaneous.

‍

‍LVH: Are there conversations today that are informing your image and motif selection?

LEO: Yes. I think a lot about hidden and obscure truths in society, both past and present. Conversations around political movements, cultural history, and the way images are manipulated or erased play a huge role in my art. I also explore more intimate ideas of concealment, like the way certain truths remain hidden in personal and collective memory.  Recently, I was intrigued by a legal case involving a Danish circus act called the “dancing ducks.” The ducks appeared to dance to music, but it was later revealed that they were forced to move quickly on a hot metal plate, driven by pain. Basically the case fascinates me as an example of illusion and concealment.

‍

‍LVH: You live in Florence. Could you tell us if and how your connection with Italian heritage has informed your identity as an artist and the work you create?

LEO: Italy is like an attic full of ancient objects. You have to learn to appreciate the importance of these objects. The objects relate to stories, facts. We know, however, that attics are also obscure and undiscovered. Therefore, being an artist in Italy is not an easy job, you carry this attic on your shoulders.
‍

‍‍

LVH: You recently had an exhibition at the Stefano Bardini Museum in Florence, and you worked at that museum in your early twenties. How was the experience to have your works alongside walls you spent so much time with? In what ways do you think your previous work experiences inspired your practice?

LEO: The most rewarding part of working in these museums was uncovering subtle details, like how worms had damaged wooden objects or how frescoes had been restored in different ways over time. This inspired my recent exhibition at the Bardini Museum, titled ‘Gli altri colori sono tutti caduti’, was a line from Cesare Brandi’s text on fresco restoration. When fragments fall from a fresco, they expose what lies beneath, and this hidden layer is just as significant as the surface. This became a way for me to explore themes of inside versus outside, what is visible and what remains concealed.

LVH: Are you experimenting with any new mediums in your practice?

‍LEO: Yes, recently I’ve been experimenting with glass. It has a certain fragility and ability to obscure and reveal. I’m particularly drawn to how dust or dirt on glass can alter perception, much like the tactile quality of velvet. I am always working inside the idea of a self portrait, but with different materials. Self portrait in this context doesn’t mean that you represent yourself, but rather your point of view.

‍LVH: What is next for you?

LEO: I have an upcoming exhibition in a museum in Pienza. In 2025, I will have a show at Amanita gallery in New York City and also a solo show at a new foundation called the Fondazione Bonollo. I am looking forward to a lot of traveling, time to read books and develop my research.

In Conversation with Lorenzo Amos

This month we sat down with 22 year old artist Lorenzo Amos, who recently debuted his first solo exhibition at Gratin in New York City.

During our conversation, Amos opened up about his new show, his transition from Italy back to NYC, and how he channels his surroundings with authenticity to craft his own unique world. His work reflects his personal journey, incorporating elements from his portraiture phase, his deep connection to music, a fascination with mark-making, and a lasting admiration for Van Gogh.

His exhibition at Gratin Gallery, No Regrets Because You’re My Sunshine—a title he discusses in the interview—is currently on view and will run until December 19th.

LVH: Your most recent show at Gratin in NYC shares your focus on exploring your immediate surroundings. Could you elaborate on this and how your style or subject matter has evolved over time?

LORENZO AMOS: So in the beginning, my work was all about portraiture. I studied Lucian Freud and Rembrandt, but it felt disconnected from my own experience. After moving back to New York, I began to reevaluate my approach. There’s a quote by Martin Wong, who’s really inspirational to me – “Everything I paint is within four blocks of where I live, and the people are the people I know and see all the time.” And there’s a song by the band The Oblivions called “Live the Life,” which is all about living the life you sing about in your songs. These are all the things I’ve been thinking about a lot for the recent show (at Gratin) and, more generally, as well. I realised I didn’t want or need to go out into the world to figure out what to paint – I have everything here. It’s a very small, compact space, but this is what interests me. This is who I am. This is what I want to show people, especially for my first show. 

LVH: How did your transition from Milan to NYC inspire and impact your work?

LORENZO AMOS: My work has changed massively, but there are still aspects of my time in Italy that are visible in my work. In Milan, and in Italy in general, I got to go see a lot of incredible Italian masterworks, like Giotto’s paintings in the church of San Francesco. Actually, I came across a beautiful image in a manuscript once—this tender depiction of two people hugging, which I actually directly referenced in my show in the work The Lovers (Blue Period), 2024. You can also still see the influence of Italy in my colour palette, as I use a lot of colours that were popular in mediaeval or Renaissance times, like lapis lazuli.

In Italy, I didn’t really encounter much contemporary or modern art, but now I’m really heading in that direction, exploring more abstract and contemporary works. Which is where New York comes in. New York is buzzing with energy. New York has so many characters and there is the contemporary art world here. Italy has this heavy history, while New York’s history is the people that have come to the city. 

‍

LVH: Some of your paintings are titled after song titles. What if your relationship to music?

LORENZO AMOS: Music is my big thing. I want to be a musician, but I’m not good at it, so I stuck to art instead. I still take weekly guitar lessons, listen to a lot of music and in general really appreciate lyrics. I write some poetry and I am currently making these poem paintings. Some of my titles come from songs as well, like I Love You But You’re Green (After Vincent) (2024), which is from a Pete Doherty song.

What I’ve looked at is the world of music—the lifestyles, the characters. I paint a lot of musicians too. Every single person I’ve painted represents something about being an artist in some way. Most of the time, they’re professional artists, and that’s what I admire and try to represent.

LVH: Many of your recent works feature people with tattoos. What is it about tattoos that draws you in, and why do they fascinate you as a subject?

LORENZO AMOS: I like painting people with tattoos. I love objects, patterns, and things like carpets and bricks. I enjoy repetition, painting something five or six times until I can really familiarise myself with it. I like marking the walls, leaving a statement like, “I was here. I’m human. I’m a caveman” and tattoos have a similar feel. 

Over the years, I’ve been getting a lot more tattoos. When I paint my friends, I often paint them multiple times, and they usually have new tattoos. So I guess I also like the idea of tattoos representing the passage of time.

‍LVH: Could you tell us about your work No Regrets Because You’re My Sunshine (2024) and its significance as the title of your show at Gratin Gallery? 

LORENZO AMOS: The name of the show comes from my friend, Alexander Wolosynski. He’s an older brother figure to me: he’s a tattoo artist, and he doesn’t stay in one place for long. In fact, he hasn’t lived anywhere for more than a month or two over the past 10 years. He’s an incredible artist, very emotional and deeply talented. He’s done some amazing tattoos, and I usually only paint the people that he tattoos. For the past month, he was working out of my studio. Every day around 4 or 5 p.m., he’d show up, and we’d have all these characters coming in to get tattooed. One day, he posted something on his Instagram story—something like, “No regrets, because you’re my sunset.” That really struck me for some reason. He’s someone who fully lives his life, no holding back, and I really admire that. It’s the kind of life I aspire to live. And, you know, then I guess “no regrets, because you’re my sunset” sort of evolved into “no regrets, because you’re my sunshine.”

‍

‍

LVH: I Love You But You’re Green (After Vincent), 2024 and Sorrow (After Vincent), 2024 make direct references to Vincent van Gogh. Can you talk about how van Gogh influences your art? 

LORENZO AMOS: He’s my favourite artist of all time. He’s the realist artist. He was just a miserable guy, and painting was the only thing that could save him and make him feel complete. I’ve read his letters to his brother, where he begs for money so many times. It’s not just the honesty in his letters, where he acknowledges his need to paint, but it is also the way he paints in the most unpretentious, humble, amazing way that resonates with me a lot. He paints all these landscapes, his home, interiors, boots, his chair, because there’s nobody around. He wants to paint people, and he keeps talking about it. His paintings are so humble and that’s how I want to paint. 

‍

‍