Being a Patron Today: Connecting, Listening, Acting

What does it mean to be a patron in the 21st century?
I define myself as a patron in the broadest sense of the word. It's a term I feel belongs to me, that fits me well, even if sometimes it feels a bit tight. I'm not just a collector – I also consider myself a researcher, not in the curatorial or academic sense, but in my personal and constant thirst for knowledge. The more I approach the world of art, the more I feel the need to go deeper, to understand. For me, today, being a patron means being open to every stimulus, to every piece of information that comes from the outside. It’s a form of continuous attention, in order to grasp and enhance every aspect of art, from young emerging artists to institutions, from foundations to public bodies. Being a patron today also means taking a stand: noticing when something doesn't work, raising your hand and saying “wait a minute,” encouraging discussion, proposing solutions. It’s not just about providing financial support – although that’s crucial, especially for the younger generation – but about living art in an active, participatory way, even without being a professional in the field. It’s a commitment that stems from passion and from a sense of cultural responsibility.

So what can a patron do today?
For me, everything starts with conversation: creating dialogues, building a network, generating connections. It means giving a voice to those who often don’t have one, offering a space – which doesn’t necessarily mean an exhibition – where they can tell their story. It might be a chat, an informal meeting where you host a curator, a museum director, an artist, a journalist, or even just an enthusiast. Right there, in that moment, something happens: an exchange. Together with your circle – which can change, expand, or shrink from time to time – you listen, you take part, and that’s exactly how opportunities are born. It’s in these situations that synergies arise between very different worlds, between people who might never have met otherwise. That, I believe, is the role of a patron today: to create connections, to encourage the exchange of ideas and experiences. If I think about young artists – a topic we discussed at a recent meeting at the Triennale – many of them don’t have direct access to figures like curators or directors. But if a curator, even by chance, listens to a young artist and discovers their work, it can truly change everything. Sometimes, all it takes is a recommendation for an international grant, or an invitation to join a collective, in Italy or abroad, to open up new paths.And that moment is born from a meeting, from a conversation that someone chose to make happen.

What criteria do you follow when choosing which artists or projects to support?
I start from a basic premise: I’m not an institution, and this gives me a kind of freedom that I consider a privilege. I have no constraints, no boundaries to respect, and I can afford to choose autonomously what to support. Those who hold institutional roles – I’m thinking, for example, of museum artistic directors – often work with great expertise, but inevitably have to operate within certain limits dictated by their position. I, on the other hand, have the good fortune of being able to be transversal, heterogeneous in my choices, and to follow my instinct as well. I support an artist or an idea not because it reflects my personal taste or fits perfectly into my collection – that’s a separate chapter, an almost private pleasure – but because I become passionate about the story behind it. And I’m not just talking about artists: I’m also interested in giving voice to institutions, creating opportunities for encounters. I’ve had the pleasure of supporting projects ranging from the British Council to the Musée d’Orsay, always thanks to proposals from curators or enterprising professionals who involved me with stimulating ideas. Precisely because I don’t have to answer to structured logics, I can explore worlds that, at first glance, don’t speak to each other, but that in my vision find a connection, perhaps in their very diversity. There’s also a more personal side. For example, I fell in love with the work of Ibrahim Mahama, which I saw at the Biennale. I wanted to get to know him better, and he told me about his foundation project in Ghana and the need to raise funds to make it happen – because in the end, we know, that’s often what it all comes down to. So, in the construction site of my house being built in Venice, among scaffolding and raw materials, we organized a gathering: a long conversation with him, some African curators, journalists, collectors, foundation presidents and art lovers. A public that, perhaps, wouldn’t have otherwise had the opportunity to get to know Mahama and his commitment up close. That was a real, powerful moment. And it’s in gestures like this that I feel the deeper meaning of my role: to promote, connect, spark something. It’s the privilege of freedom, and it’s a responsibility I feel truly made for.

How do you support emerging artists today, especially the new generation, and what are the challenges in creating real opportunities for them to be seen?
Promoting the work of an artist often means taking them out of the studio and giving them visibility in broader contexts, capable of truly valuing their research. In recent years, I’ve supported both national and international projects precisely with this goal: to offer concrete opportunities to artists who otherwise would not have had access to certain networks, spaces, or interlocutors. I believe that today we must pay particular attention to the new generation of artists born from the 1990s onward, understand their language, the way they choose to present themselves and narrate their work. It’s on that modality – often hybrid and fluid – that we must calibrate our support. Of course, a certain openness is also required from the artists themselves. There is still a strong distrust toward the figure of the patron, perhaps because it has too often been associated with purely speculative collecting. But my idea of patronage is completely different: it’s not about buying many works as an investment, but about accompanying, listening, allowing something to emerge. At the same time, I believe artists must understand how visibility dynamics work today, how opportunities for encounter are built. Those who have the privilege of studying or living abroad have access to different, more direct channels. But I think especially of those who don’t have those opportunities: they are often the ones, the less exposed artists, who deserve more attention. Because behind an unknown work, there may be a powerful voice, an original point of view. And when the right context is created for them to share their story, when a space for authentic dialogue opens up, then the artist’s personality and the deep meaning of their work can truly emerge. Because the message isn’t always immediate – but through conversation, it can become so.

How does support for young artists actually work? Are institutions keeping up?
The role of institutions in this area is fundamental, but we have to acknowledge that it’s often private foundations that move more swiftly in promoting young contemporary artists – for a thousand reasons that are plain to see. Let’s take, for example, the growing number of foundations that have emerged in Venice in recent years: they don’t always represent a genuine cultural opportunity; sometimes there’s also a more pragmatic component, such as tax reasons or a somewhat opportunistic vision tied to bringing one’s collection into the city. That said, this ferment generates new dynamics and, from my personal point of view, creates important opportunities. I don’t have a precise formula for doing this, and fortunately I can shape my support and commitment in ever-changing ways, adapting to circumstances and needs each time.

How would you define the current state of contemporary art in Italy?
I prefer to leave the task of defining the state of art in Italy to those who work directly in the field, because they have a competence and authority that I do not possess. I feel somewhat uncomfortable answering this question: I’m simply an art enthusiast, and my view, however sincere, is inevitably partial and limited to the worlds that, with my curiosity and the time I can dedicate, I manage to explore. I believe that those who make statements or give testimony in this field have precise responsibilities, and it doesn’t seem right to offer definitions that aren’t mine to give. There is, however, one aspect that I seem to notice in my daily path, from my point of observation within the art system: at times, some Italian galleries seem less present than one would expect when it comes to representing young and emerging artists from our country. It’s a commitment that would be desirable and that perhaps still clashes with a tendency to look more enthusiastically abroad, at the expense of what we have closer to home.

What are the main challenges that contemporary Italian artists face?
The main challenge for young artists is, first and foremost, making themselves known – but in this regard, Italian institutions show serious shortcomings: they’re slow, inefficient, and often struggle to truly support these talents. Unfortunately, as I mentioned earlier, the same kind of “absence” toward young Italian artists can be seen in many private galleries as well. This apparent paradox actually finds its counterpart in a certain cultural elitism – a very Italian one – that still permeates art schools and, in turn, seems to discourage artists from “getting their hands dirty” with the market. Education in our country suffers from a consolidated academicism that favors the purely intellectual side of art – setting it in opposition to the “commercialization” of artworks. Looking abroad, instead, we see different models, where the intellectual and professional (and ultimately, monetary) aspects of art coexist without hypocrisy: younger artists can count on real support, often with state stipends that allow them to dedicate themselves fully to their work. In Italy, on the other hand, due to this outdated mentality, being an artist is still not seen as a true profession, but more as a passion or hobby – a privilege reserved for those who can afford, often thanks to a well-off family, to travel and engage with other artistic realities. That’s why it’s essential to create concrete opportunities and a structured system, which is lacking today. I believe curators and museum directors should open a more honest dialogue and listen to the real needs of artists, working together to build solid and lasting support.

So will Italian art continue to suffer a gap with the international scene?
The situation won’t be resolved anytime soon, that’s for sure, but something is moving. Today there is more attention to contemporary art, although, it must be said, fashion and other sectors have often used it somewhat opportunistically. However, if we look at the positive aspects, this visibility still represents a precious channel, a real opportunity – a form of patronage, in short.That said, it is mainly those artists who have the right contacts, or the luck to be noticed by a capable gallerist or curator, or who simply have the courage to leave their studio and get themselves known, who emerge. Meanwhile, others remain focused on their work, perhaps preferring painting to video, or maintaining a distance from the outside world, risking not being seen and thus missing important opportunities.

And what do galleries, fairs, and foundations in Italy do for Italian art?
The reduction of VAT to 5% represents a truly historic step for Italian art. This measure makes the movement of artworks between Italy and abroad much easier in both directions, and significantly reduces costs for collectors and enthusiasts who buy art. As for fairs, I admit that I’m finding them less and less engaging, and I don’t think I’m the only one. The art fair format seems outdated and in need of change. It’s important to open a discussion on this topic, to listen to different points of view to understand why people still attend fairs today. If a gallerist, for example, has already sold all the works before the event to selected clients – private or institutional – then what is the point of the fair itself? Moreover, the price of an artwork changes depending on the fair where it is sold: why should the purchase of an artwork depend on where it is presented? Who really benefits from all this? The artist, the system, or someone else? Art is a driving force, a show, but it must be based on real and meaningful content. That’s why I insist so much on the importance of authentic exchange between artist and public, who can be made up of very different people. The essence lies in the possibility to tell, to dialogue, not in the mere spectacle of art.

Which international models do you consider most virtuous or replicable in Italy?
I mentioned the British Council earlier and I think it’s important to keep doing so as an example of great flexibility and ease of communication. Often, working with Italian institutions means facing a mountain of “red tape,” endless certified emails (PEC), and countless steps just to prove that a project is legitimate. After the third certified email, you really feel like giving up. Paradoxically, all this time spent on bureaucracy ends up turning a contemporary art project into something that almost seems like modern art, because in Italy there is a lack of capacity to simplify and facilitate things. So it happens that many turn abroad, not out of foreignism, but because there the process is smoother. With two phone calls and a nice chat, they make you feel part of a wonderful world, a real opportunity and a privilege to support. A clear example is the work with Sonia Boyce, Golden Lion at the 2022 Venice Biennale, and the British Pavilion: it only took an informal meeting with the artist, the curator, and the director of the British Council, all on the same level, to spark a collaboration. It may seem naïve, but this is exactly where the true role of the patron lies.

How do you imagine the evolution of Italian art in the next ten years?
We don’t know what will happen tomorrow morning, and I hope that the evolution can happen in different and surprising ways. However, I don’t feel able to make predictions about the future, and honestly, I don’t even want to try. I prefer to live the present, to deepen what is happening today, leaving to those who are more expert the task of imagining what will happen in ten years.

Between collector, architect, and patron… which of these roles represents you the most?
Architect, without hesitation. It is there that I truly feel at home, in the act of designing, in the responsibility of building: it is the only role in which ideas necessarily have to take real space.