October 2024

Stefano Cagol

Installation view, Stefano Cagol, The Bouvet Island, 2024, The National Etruscan Museum of Villa Giulia, Rome. Photo courtesy of the Italian Ministry of Culture and The National Etruscan Museum of Villa Giulia. Photo by Elisabetta A. Villa 

Camilla Boemio speaks with artist, activist, and art explorer Stefano Cagol about the intersection of environmental issues, contemporary art, and heritage.

Earlier this year, at ETRU—The National Etruscan Museum of Villa Giulia in Rome—Stefano Cagol presented The Bouvet Island, a site-specific installation in the heart of the museum’s sixteenth-century courtyard. Set between the museum’s hemicycle, designed by Jacopo Barozzi da Vignola, and the loggia by Bartolomeo Ammannati, the installation embraced and reflected its architectural surroundings.

Contradictions and oxymorons formed an aesthetic narrative that rose to ethical importance. The installation’s title and shape evoked Bouvet Island, located in the Antarctic—one of the world’s most isolated places. The island was also the site of the mysterious Vela Incident, a nuclear explosion that no nation has ever claimed. Shrouded in secrecy, this unresolved episode highlights humanity’s paradoxical impact on the natural world. The Bouvet Island thus encapsulated key elements of Cagol’s artistic process: an exploration of nuclear power, extreme nature, human intervention, and the boundaries that shape our place in the world.

— Camilla Boemio

Camilla Boemio: Could you tell us about the concept behind The Bouvet Island installation for ETRU Museo Nazionale Etrusco in Rome?

Stefano Cagol: The Bouvet Island is a work rooted in the origins of my artistic practice, yet it is always new and dialogues in an ever different way with the context. I started working with thin aluminum sheets in this way by folding them by hand when I was still studying at the Brera Academy in 1992. I switched from paper to aluminum to reach larger dimensions and overcome the challenge of time. I had no longer used this technique until ten years ago when I chose it to give shape to The Bouvet Island, an island that exists in reality but which I take as a symbol of our impact. It is known as the most remote place on the planet because it is farthest from other islands and the mainland and is uninhabited by human beings, a spur of ice-covered rock in the sea, yet multiple nations have claimed its possession: the French, the English and it now is a Norwegian territory. Besides, it was the site of an atomic explosion, the most mysterious ever to occur: it was the Seventies, at the height of the Cold War, and no one ever claimed responsibility for the action or identified the perpetrators. With aluminum, I evoke those surfaces that are harsh for us but capable of reflecting the nature around them.

The Bouvet becomes a symbolic and conceptual object which each time takes on different forms and prefers open spaces, such as the garden of the National Etruscan Museum in Rome, an incredible museum that houses the major Etruscan finds of this civilization at the basis of Mediterranean and European cultures with their amber route for example. The venue is in a precious historic building, and the work was designed for the central garden with, on one side, a hemicycle and a decorated portico designed by Jacopo Barozzi da Vignola and, on the other, a sort of scenic backdrop, the loggia conceived by Bartolomeo Ammannati, which then overlooks the nymphaeum, fed by the ancient Roman aqueduct Vergine, all around tall maritime pines.

Here, the Bouvet is gold, a tone that I have only used twice. This color leads to a relationship with time, the future and the past because, in the spiritual sphere, it is usually associated with light, the sun, and the divine. By meditating and basing visualizations on the color gold, you can establish a dialogue with divinity. At the same time, gold refers to the idea of strength and wealth, sharing a link with some of the most typical concepts of materialism, such as the vanity and arrogance of human beings. The Bouvet Island thus summarizes the contradictions of the contemporary human being: we are a species capable of such high peaks but also so aggressive towards everything around us.

Installation view, Stefano Cagol, The Bouvet Island, 2024, The National Etruscan Museum of Villa Giulia, Rome. Photo courtesy of the Italian Ministry of Culture and ETRU. Photo by Elisabetta A. Villa 

IInstallation view, Stefano Cagol, The Bouvet Island, 2024, The National Etruscan Museum of Villa Giulia, Rome. Photo courtesy of the Italian Ministry of Culture and ETRU. Photo by Elisabetta A. Villa 

CB: Versatility is a vital part of your practice, reworking and reflecting on current events through an extensive artistic exploration. How do the “antennas” you use transform the museum into a “power plant”?

SC: I start from the title, from the concept, which is all-encompassing. The work I create is a means of expressing this concept, and it doesn't matter if it is a video, photography, performance, installation, or a project that is developing multiple levels. From this perspective, the museum is like a power plant where this energy is condensed and must be released outwards.

I believe in an art that communicates to the largest possible audience, translating and fearlessly addressing today's issues. Art can make truly complex issues simple, which is what the philosopher Timothy Morton defines as hyperobjects. People are against this term: simple. Yet simplicity does not mean superficiality: entering into the matter, into the concept, distilling and synthesizing it, allows you to go to the bottom without stopping at the first arduous and aesthetic layer of things. That is why the energy metaphor works. Energy illuminates with transparent logic and clarity.

CB: What does it mean to be an art explorer?

SC: Art must regain an incisive role within society, and the artist must not simply follow the masses, even if conformism reigns – but rather trace a personal path, as an explorer who penetrates a jungle or a mountaineer tackling a mountain. Like my compatriot Reinhold Messner, who freed himself from companions, oxygen, and excessive, obsolete and heavy materials. In this way, he arrived and overcame every previously unthinkable boundary.

I received two particularly striking compliments from people in the art world. Once in Cologne, someone told me that I am a thoroughbred, and another time, that I do not have a lobby that supports me, but I am the lobby because I resist, evolve, and manage to influence.

Indeed, this attitude of mine and my method based on the process and on triggering projects that develop through budding has also led me to create a contemporary art platform at the MUSE Science Museum of Trento and, within it, even to found a new public collection, launched thanks to the victory of the PAC award of the Italian Ministry of Culture, which starts with the purchase of 14 works by as many international, consolidated and emerging artists. Another award I won for the second time from the Italian Ministry of Culture, the Italian Council, now allows me to carry out the “We Are the Flood” project in Cairo, Malaysia, Greenland, and Kyrgyzstan, where I will go next month. My cultural partners are extremely interesting institutions. Further developments have emerged from the first stages: I will shortly return to Cairo to represent Italy in the exhibition organized by EUNIC, the network of European cultural institutes, and in Copenhagen, I am invited to bring a restitution of the stage carried out in Ilulissat in Greenland.

In 2006, I created my first project that crossed Europe going out from the designated spaces, and a few years later, I crossed the continent again from south to north with a beacon marking the landscape. In that case, the stops were not at museums: I compare myself with everything around me. Since 2010, in my latest projects, I have immersed myself in total solitude in nature, dialoguing with the elements: ice, fire, water, and rocks. It allows me to communicate with eras long before us and anticipate future scenarios, such as those opened by ancient ice destined to disappear quickly. In direct dialogue with the elements, it is possible to penetrate the transcendent, and the artist becomes a shaman.

“I believe in an art that communicates to the largest possible audience, translating and fearlessly addressing today's issues.”

Stefano Cagol, We are the Flood, May 7, 2024, live performance at the Italian Cultural Institute in Cairo for SABBART, hosted by the EU National Institute for Culture, Egypt

Stefano Cagol, We are the Flood, May 7, 2024, live performance at the Italian Cultural Institute in Cairo for SABBART, hosted by the EU National Institute for Culture, Egypt

CB: How much does the defense of nature and its controversial relationship with humans belong to your research?

SC: My entire production can be seen in this light. I lived my childhood in the seventies, when environmental issues and sensitivity were very present, later supplanted by unbridled consumerism. These topics in art and society have returned in recent years, and many address them in a less sincere and more interested manner. When I participated in the national pavilion of the Maldives at the Venice Biennale in 2013, at that very moment, just a few people were sincerely addressing such urgent issues. So it sounds even more brilliant that the curators wanted to create a global pavilion with a dozen international artists that spoke about the idea of disappearance starting from the fact that the Maldives archipelago is the place on the planet lowest above sea level and therefore inexorably threatened from rising seas. I created a link with the Alps where I was born, bringing to Venice a block of ice left to melt along the street under the eyes of passers-by in a process that lasted 72 hours, of which a video of the same duration remains. Now, that work is already appearing in school textbooks in Italy as a clear example of an art that addresses environmental issues in an enlightened way.

CB: How is it possible to make a reflection that reaches as much as possible to the various strata of society?

SC: We need to know how to get out of galleries and museums and talk about today and tomorrow, about time, about before and after us. It's something you don't learn; it's a vocation.

CB: Which historical artists have influenced or inspired you?

SC: The Nineties were American with my post-doctoral fellowship from the Canadian Government in Toronto at Ryerson University. I hung out with Michel Snow and Bruce Elder, I watched masters like Bill Viola and Stan Brakage, I participated in the McLuhan program, and I loved the essential electronic low-fi of Paik's origins, which I sometimes pursue. But first, at the academy, there was Joseph Beuys, who had such an impact, bringing his vision and activism into society until he became one of the founders of the Green Party in Germany. Instead, upon returning from Canada, I met his main student, Katarina Sieverding, with whom I was lucky enough to study at the Sommerakademie in Salzburg, and another woman, Maria Nordman. With the latter, I was one of the two participants in one of her workshops so exceptionally intimate and delicate as had never been seen before, held on the eastern border of Italy over twenty years ago, where I assimilated the concept of time-specific, the relationship with time. But I also want to remember the meetings and projects with ABO, Amon Barzel, Veit Loers and Jan Hoet…

Camilla Boemio and Stefano Cagol at The National Etruscan Museum of Villa Giulia, Rome, 2024. Photo by Elisabetta A. Villa 

Stefano Cagol
The Bouvet Island
Curated by Camilla Boemio and AAC Platform
Museo Nazionale Etrusco of Villa Giulia, Roma
February 20 - March 24, 2024