Gian Enzo Sperone, you started out in Turin, the city of Savoy, where you opened your first Italian gallery. It was a small town. From American Pop Art (1963) and always with an eye on American Conceptualism, you supported provincial artists who used unusual materials, all the way up to the full-blown Arte Povera movement. Were you playing around or experimenting?
At the end of 1962, Leo Castelli and Ileana Sonnabend came to Turin to meet Michelangelo Pistoletto. On that occasion, I began a relationship with America and American Pop Art, whose artists such as Lichtenstein, Warhol, Rosenquist, Oldenburg, Jim Dine, and Rauschenberg I would exhibit from 1963 to 1966. A change was already underway, which resulted in Minimalism and Conceptualism, with artists such as Flavin, Morris, Kosuth, Judd, and Carl André, with whom I promptly sided to promote their work in Italy. I speak of Italy rather than Turin because it is well known that the latter was already in a position of cutting edge maintained for at least 10 yearsAlready in the mid-1960s, the artists of Arte Povera (Pascali, Mondino, Gilardi, Anselmo, Zorio, and Boetti) were making their mark, introducing a new idea of art with unprecedented research and energy, contained in the materials themselves, inaugurating a linguistic freedom whereby each work implied syntactical deviations.
Pino Pascali: His first exhibition, Armi (1966), rejected by Plinio De Martis of La Tartaruga, was welcomed by you. He arrived in his truck with fake weapons and was detained by the police. Was your curatorial gesture a publicity stunt or a critique of war delivered through an artistic gesture that foreshadowed current geopolitical events?
Pascali represented the spearhead of the new Roman avant-garde, whose artistic gesture, with the provocative use of artificial weapons such as cannons, missiles, and machine guns, executed in camouflage to deceive exhibition visitors, unprepared to distinguish the real from the artificial, constituted a significant challenge to breaking the canons, especially those of dominant abstract painting. The exhibition was scrapped by the Roman galleries La Tartaruga and L'Attico for reasons that still escape me, which speaks volumes about the leading position of Turin in those years. I don't remember the incident with the police holding the truck at the police station; what is certain is that the exhibition contained linguistic provocations beyond everyone's comprehension and, above all, outside the aesthetics of painting.
You've brought art to places where it didn't exist before (industrial contexts and alternative spaces). Does the Engadine fit into this logic of strategic decentralization? What prompted you to move your gallery to an Alpine valley? Was it an emotional, strategic, or aesthetic choice?
In 1967, I moved the idea of the boutique gallery to a large, strategically decentralized former garage, where artists could work in the facility, if they so desired, in the presence of the public, who could participate in the creative act. This adventure lasted a short time (two years) before the fury of student protests invaded art venues, deeming them obsolete (to the point of damaging the works). It was the era of Adriano Sofri's Lotta Continua. Galleries and art in general were being contested. I was the victim of graffiti on the exterior walls of my gallery in Turin, adjacent to Lotta Continua's national headquarters; even then, but especially now—with hindsight—I considered such attacks unfair, pure profiteering. Aesthetic society is never outside of history, with all due respect to those Fake Revolutionaries.
In your opinion, was it a challenge or an opportunity?
"Both and neither. My current experience outside the cities of the Lower Engadine was an emotional and aesthetic choice, not a challenge."
How does your gallery, featuring international artists, fit into the cultural fabric of this pleasant place?
«Unfortunately in this place, Despite numerous exhibitions featuring international art stars, there hasn't been a single audience from the Upper Engadine, Zurich, or even Austria (whose borders are very close). This may be due to my resistance to social media and my desire to bombard the public with intrusive advertising.
Do you think the “luxury of slowness” is an advantage for the way we experience art?
«The entire history of art is based on the contrast between slowness and speed, as if to say that the times of classical antiquity contrast with Futurist strategies».
Is there dialogue with the local community?
«No dialogue."
Who is your main audience?
«My visitors are friends, collectors and merchants from Milan, Turin and Rome».
How does the “non-specialist” public (tourists and passers-by) react to your proposals?
«As I said before, the public that frequents my gallery is not from the Engadine».
Can you tell me about an exhibition that is symbolic for you that you organized here in Engadine?
«I would like to recall an exhibition by Bruce Nauman (about twenty years ago) which was the first of a series of solo shows with original and linguistically independent artists».
Years later, what do you think is the role of the Engadine (not just St. Moritz) in the geography of contemporary art today? Is it becoming an international cultural hub?
"The Engadine's role can be improved, but what's needed is strong institutional action rather than the dozens of unauthorized operators operating between St. Moritz, Zuoz, Schanf, and Sent."
How do you experience local seasonality? Follow the rhythm of tourist events?
«I've been out of rhythm since birth and the seasonality I follow is only my own».
Do you work with local artists or do you continue to build your own narratives following your personal and international collecting spirit?
"I came to this part of the world after meeting one of Switzerland's finest artists, Not Vital, to closely follow his creative journey. For over forty years, my work has been a hybrid of collecting and gallery management."
Which artist do you think best represents the spirit of the place today, or who you would bring here, and why?
The artist I consider an extraordinary sculptor and painter, whom I met personally in 1961, is Alberto Giacometti, who, alas, died in the mid-1960s. In the town where I live today, Sent, there is a small museum containing his lithographs, created throughout his career. I recommend a trip to visit it: the Aldier Museum, whose name is an acronym of the names Alberto and Diego, his brother. Since he was born not far from here, in the Bregaglia Valley, he embodies the quintessential spirit of the place.
What are the challenges of having a gallery here in the Engadine? I'm talking about logistics, visibility, and bureaucracy...
"When you live and work in the mountains, everything is more difficult and expensive, but the enchantment of the landscape makes up for all these problems."
How do you imagine the future of art in Engadine?
«The future of art in Engadine can grow on condition that the private market is supported, as mentioned above, by strong institutional activity: by this I mean the presence of curators not linked to clan of the galleries".
Have you ever commissioned site-specific projects inspired by the Engadine landscape?
I've hosted three projects: one by Richard Long, another by Wolfgang Laib, and the third by Not Vital (pictured alongside), which are so site-specific they can't be transferred elsewhere (said not without a sense of personal pride, as this experience harks back centuries, when the aristocracy and the papacy commissioned miles of frescoes that made Italy unique). These projects are housed in the building where I live and work today: a residence built in the 17th century by order of Baron Stupan, then governor of Valtellina, which belonged to the Grisons until 1796, when Napoleon incorporated it into the nascent Cisalpine Republic.
Has the gallery ever collaborated with cultural associations or artistic residences in the area?
"No".
Could the Engadine become a platform for artist residencies, in addition to festivals like Nomad?
"Certainly. But further investment is needed. In the past, I've participated in events like Nomad, which, as the name suggests, travels, but also to other countries; but I never had the feeling it could become a magnet for the Engadine."
If you could define the Engadine in just one word or work of art, which one would you choose?
«Engadina = Beauty and, unlike many Italian mountains and valleys, it has retained an original architecture that is worth visiting».
Julian Schnabel was one of your leading artists, and now his son Vito has opened a gallery in St. Moritz. Has this changed anything in your relationship?
"Not at all. I've known Vito since birth: he's a capable young man who recalls his father Julian's outgoing nature. Our relationship is sparse but very cordial."
What remains of Gian Enzo, who used to buy everything from an artist, "buying lots because only one pays you back"?
Nothing has changed in the art world, since art is a spiritual asset, not a safe haven; it's not scandalous to speculate on it, but art requires sincerity and, obviously, ongoing research. The enthusiasm of the new generations, despite all the limitations imposed by this dissociated and commercialized society, is an undeniable fact.
Can collecting be a form of contemporary patronage? Do you identify with this idea?
Collecting is a personal mirage that can inspire, or ruin, a person's life; if it then becomes a form of patronage through institutional donations, it represents a quantum leap. I hope that the new generations don't fall into the traps of the marketing monster.
