In a Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Meet the Mutti tomato tin, a cooking classic in Italy and beyond

Carlo Ratti on the Mutti tomato tin

'La calle se llenó de tomates.' Or, 'The street filled with tomatoes.' Thus begins one of the Odes by the great Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. And so begins our own late-summer day, in the small town of Montechiarugolo – a community of 10,000 people some 20km from Parma, right in the heart of Italy’s Food Valley, the stretch of Emilia-Romagna behind your favourite Parmesan cheese, Parma ham and balsamic vinegar.

Here, the streets are indeed covered in red, as if Neruda’s poetry had become matter. We are at the headquarters of Mutti, a leading producer of premium tomato products. It is a place I know well, having worked on the company’s masterplan for several years.

In Montechiarugolo, summer itself is a concentrate. Everything has to happen within a few short weeks, during which the town becomes a magnet, drawing trucks loaded with red from across the region. They pour their tomatoes into vast water-filled tanks, where the transformation process begins: sorting, peeling, canning. What our grandmothers used to do in the countryside, multiplied to infinity by mechanical and human arms alike. And then, voilà: a gleaming red-and-gold tin.

The design of that tin is rather retro. The two gilded lions, the symbol of the company, set against an intense red background, guarding the gold medal that Mutti won at the International Industry and Agriculture Exhibition in Rome in 1911. The whole thing is embellished with a touch of white and graphics reminiscent of the mid-20th century. The abundance of gilding would probably not look out of place on one of the shelves of the White House, following the revamp promoted by its current occupant.

The tin, though, has something undeniably pop about it: Andy Warhol could have adopted it for an Italian variation of the Campbell’s Soup tin.

Then there is the tube. In 1951, when refrigerators were still a luxury, Ugo Mutti (1893–1980) had the ingenious idea of packaging tomato concentrate like toothpaste. He sealed it with a cap that doubled as a sewing thimble.

Mutti’s packaging, like other objects we have encountered this summer, tells us something more general. Think of Thorstein Veblen, the early-20th-century American sociologist who theorised the idea of conspicuous consumption. The things we surround ourselves with tell the story of who we are and what we value. So even a tin of tomatoes can become a statement. Design becomes a semiotic system, in which a container is also a sign.

Among these signs is summer itself. That tin will accompany us through the coming winter months. From next week, when this summer column will have closed its doors, and the annual 'sexual orgy of pulp and juices' – to borrow the Italian novelist Cesare Pavese’s definition – will be no more than a distant memory, the Mutti tin will keep summer alive. Summer in a can.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Meet the Monoloc, the omnipresent plastic chair that inspires strong emotions

Carlo Ratti on the Monobloc plastic chair

Italy's most hated piece of design might also be its most beloved. We are talking about the monobloc plastic chair.

I also cannot make up my mind. Love or hate? Fieri sentio et excrucior — I feel it happening, and it is torture, as the poet Catullus might have put it. This summer, we encountered it everywhere: at Aunt Mariuccia’s barbecue. At an improvised open-air cinema in Lipari. Under the umbrellas on Ipanema Beach. Even on the cover of Bad Bunny’s latest album, DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS. And yet, in the garden of our Italian offices, it is banned. The same went from 2008–2017 for the Swiss city of Basel.

Its origins are more noble than one might think. Many trace it back to Joe Colombo, one of the great masters of 20th-century Italian design. His Universale 4867 chair, produced by Kartell and now part of the collection of MoMA, the Museum of Modern Art in New York, revolutionised design in the 1960s.

It stacks easily, one chair on top of another. And it celebrates the possibilities of a material that was then revolutionary: plastic. Unlike traditional woodworking objects, made by subtraction and the assembly of separate parts and joints, in the Universale 4867 chair, everything is created through addition. Plastic injected into moulds. Psssst.

The monobloc is not as elegant as the Universale 4867. Yet it stacks better. And, above all, it has conquered half the world. It is estimated that more than one billion have been produced. One Italian company alone produces around ten million a year, at a unit cost of just a few euros.

And this is why the most beloved chair also becomes the most hated. First of all, because our relationship with plastic has changed. Once seen as a marvellous material, it has become a symbol of one of the great environmental challenges of our time. As it breaks down, it turns into thousands of fragments, which then fragment further into microplastics. We find them practically everywhere: from Antarctica to our brains, as well as throughout the food chain that connects them.

But beyond environmental concerns, there is another problem: repetition. The monobloc chair has become so ubiquitous that it can make you nauseous. Like Vivaldi’s Four Seasons: beautiful, but unbearable after the umpteenth replay in a neighbourhood pizzeria. Everything can be poison, Paracelsus said: it is the dose that makes the difference.

And perhaps the same is true of design. Objects, ultimately, tell us something about ourselves. From the primordial artifacts our ancestors displayed as trophies — the pelt of a bear, the pendant carved from a sharpened stone — to contemporary design products, there is always a story behind them. But what remains of a story when everyone tells it? According to my MIT colleague Ethan Zuckerman, the monobloc may have reached a state of ubiquity. So ubiquitous that it has disappeared.

And so, let us allow ourselves a brief moment of rest. As the back of the monobloc chair creaks, our gaze settles on the barbecue. There, between the Pachino tomato sizzling and the red Rotonda eggplant browning, another kind of design comes into view: the kind that tells us a story about who we are and what we have become. As yet another monobloc chair fades into the heat.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

Storied jewellery and silverware house Buccellati and Armenian-Lebanese interior designer Chahan Minassian work together like caviar and mother-of-pearl. Having previously collaborated on the expansion of the Maison’s Milan flagship store with the opening of a grand ‘Piano Nobile’ showroom on its first floor, their creative partnership is back in bloom with an intimate caviar bar overlooking the courtyard.

Experience Buccellati’s Art de la Table in Milan

Dedicated to the art of entertainment, the new space visually references Buccellati’s timeless caviar tableware collection: an emblematic range dating back to the 1930s and beloved for its signature micro-beaded motif and exceptional silversmithing craftsmanship. The Palazzo’s Neoclassical bones, originally designed by Luigi Chierichetti and completed in 1839, converse effortlessly with the soothing colour palette that defines the furnishings and fixtures.

‘Maintaining a residential spirit was essential,’ says Chahan Minassian. ‘The objective was to create an interior that felt welcoming and lived-in while preserving the architectural grandeur of Palazzo Gavazzi. The mirrors introduce light, movement and depth, while the materials, textiles and Murano glass bring warmth and intimacy.’

Past a gallery-style entrance, the caviar bar unfolds across two levels, with a glazed mezzanine overlooking a central bar and an arrangement of plush lounge chairs and sculptural bistro tables that are reserved for clients and guests. Above, vaulted surfaces, clad entirely in copper, silver and smoky-grey mirrored panels, split daylight across the room.

Throughout, silvery greys and taupes co-exist with accents of bronze and gold, while velvet, Fortuny fabrics, textured leather and custom rugs counter the harder reflective surfaces. Minassian designed each piece of furniture for the room, then added vintage Murano glass chandeliers with a characteristic amber light. The same colours and materials appeared in Minassian’s earlier work on the Piano Nobile, creating continuity between Buccellati’s retail and hospitality spaces.

Alongside the micro-beaded caviar line-up, including wine glasses, holders, and serving plates, are Buccellati’s pieces made with Ginori, coloured glass from its Murano Collection and the Furry Animals series of sculptural silver creatures, as presented during the 2025 edition of Milan Design Week.

Buccellati is located at Via Monte Napoleone, 23, 20121 Milan, Italy

Gazing across the rolling hills of Emilia-Romagna, northern Italy, the keen-eyed traveller might spot a flash of terracotta in the distance. It wouldn't be entirely out of place to presume it might belong to one of the agricultural region's traditional farmhouses, defined by their clay roof tiles. Approaching the site, however, it soon becomes clear that an altogether different architectural proposition is at play here. All blocky, geometric shapes and a brutalist spirit, House on the Hills cuts a confident, albeit remarkably stealthy, figure among the area's wheat fields, vineyards and woodlands.

The project is the holiday home of architects Fabio Calvi and Paolo Brambilla, who co-founded their namesake Milan-based studio in 2006. The creative duo were after a countryside retreat, and they found what they were looking for near Piacenza, an hour and a half south of Milan, just beyond the industrial plain of the Po Valley.

Step inside this Italian retreat on a hill

‘From the very beginning, we wanted the house to be a strong, contemporary architectural gesture that clearly stands apart from the natural landscape,' the duo say. ‘At the same time, we wanted its colour palette to feel deeply connected to the place, echoing both the surrounding countryside and the traditional colours of the local architecture. This balance between contrast in form and harmony in colour was one of the project's guiding ideas.'

As a result, the house is a bold blend of regional references and 20th-century modern architecture, sprinkled with its creators' sharp sense of style and conceptual clarity. A pleasingly weighty concrete roof in an earthy colour becomes a key exterior feature that appears to float above the leafy surrounding, thanks to the subtle, organic mineral hue (somewhere between warm grey and taupe) of its similarly sturdy walls. It also translates into a powerful coffered ceiling internally, offering a 90 x 90cm grid that helps shape the layout's arrangement.

‘Beyond the colour palette rooted in the local landscape, our references included the coffered ceilings of the region's historic noble residences and the terracotta friezes of the medieval castles around Piacenza,' the architects add. ‘We are passionate students of architecture and design history. Rather than repeating the same formal language or design attitude from project to project, we try to find references that are specific and appropriate to each context. We often reinterpret elements from the past through a contemporary lens, allowing every project to develop its own identity.'

Stepping inside, a compressed entrance area opens up into a generous living space with a slightly sunken seating and entertaining area that makes you feel like you are nestled within the surrounding garden – the property's thick walls not only acting as structural load-bearers, but also accentuating the framing of verdant vistas in all directions. Spreading out beyond to the outdoors, the interior's coffered ceiling becomes a deep lattice outside, shading the terrace and swimming pool.

The sense of security provided by the house design's honest solidity is matched by its material selection. Gridded artificial stone paving flows inside and outside, connecting all spaces. Its finer, 5cm square grid ‘evokes the visionary landscapes imagined by Superstudio during the Radical Architecture movement of the late 1960s', the architects explain, referencing the era's Italian movement that challenged modern architecture and consumer capitalism through bold and imaginative photocollages and design visuals often featuring grids.

Furnishings are a balanced mix of 20th-century vintage finds and pieces designed by the architects for companies such as Zanotta, Frigerio and Pianca. And bespoke elements abound too, defined by oversized solid wooden knobs, which can be found on the kitchen cupboards and other storage elements. As the pair put it: ‘These tactile details introduce an almost archetypal domestic quality, recalling traditional farm furniture and affirming the building's primary vocation: a country house intended to be shared around long meals, seasonal gatherings and everyday family life.'

As to whether it was challenging to design a home for themselves, Calvi and Brambilla's 20 years' experience makes them feel confident in their choices: ‘We approached the project in exactly the same way, treating ourselves as the clients. The design evolved through a very careful and continuous dialogue between us, and looking back, we would make almost exactly the same decisions again. Apart from a few minor details, we wouldn't change anything.'

calvibrambilla.it

In a Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Enjoy building on the beach with a classic bucket and spade.

Carlo Ratti on the bucket and spade

No architecture firm in the world can match the volume of construction that goes up along the Italian coast every summer. The tools behind this seasonal boom cost less than an espresso and are wielded by a workforce with no licences whatsoever.

We are talking about the plastic bucket and spade. They are the entry point for new generations into the world of construction. They still hold their own against the digital temptations of tablets and smartphones, introducing children to the logic of space through a cycle of rapid creation and immediate collapse: a kind of creative destruction, as Joseph Schumpeter might have called it, that probably works better on the shoreline than it does in economics.

Today, we are once again on the shoreline, bucket and spade in hand. We have seen them a thousand times this summer, hanging from metal hooks outside virtually every tobacconist along the coast between May and September, swaying like brightly colored fruit. They signal that the coast is about to be transformed into an open-air public-works construction site: fortresses, canals, and ramparts erected by tiny master builders who can indulge their architectural fantasies without having to answer to anyone (a bit like, some might say, the current occupant of the White House).

The true kings of the Italian bucket, however, are not found here but in the industrial North. Companies such as Androni Giocattoli churn out endless quantities of these sets using injection-moulding presses. The design is an anonymous midcentury one that spread across the country at the intersection of the construction boom and the boom in seaside holidays.

The design is brilliant in its simplicity. The bucket is not a container but a geometric mould in negative: wet sand is packed into it, the bucket is turned upside down, and voilà – a tower appears. The trick lies in the slight taper of its walls, which makes it easier to release whatever has been formed inside. The spade, meanwhile, is an extension of the arm, sized to fit a child’s hand. No decorative frills: its form follows entirely from the physics of the sandcastle.

The bucket challenges our obsession with permanence. We live in a society devoted to pouring concrete, locking down data, and designing structures to last forever. This plastic toy puts the human ego face to face with an unappealable critic: the tide. You build a castle for three hours, admire it for five minutes, and the sea erases everything. The true value lies in the joy of making, not in the longevity of the structure. We might call it a seaside mandala: beauty that knows it is ephemeral and is enjoyed on the spot for exactly that reason.

When the season ends, the shops take down the beach toys and the shore goes back to being flat and empty. The toys, however, do not disappear – they merely migrate. When the tan has faded, and the fog has sealed our cities, one day we will reach beneath the back seat of the car and our hand will strike a rounded plastic edge. That cracked and faded bucket, with a few grains of dry sand rattling at the bottom, carries a certain promise: another building summer will soon arrive.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

The language of the hands and the art of making take centre stage once again in Venice with Homo Faber 2026, the fourth edition of the biennial organised by the Michelangelo Foundation for Creativity and Craftsmanship, this year titled ‘An Island of Light’. The vast and international celebration of fine craftsmanship has just opened (read our full Homo Faber 2026 review) and, until 30 September, takes over the space of the Fondazione Giorgio Cini on the island of San Giorgio Maggiore.

Behind the scenes of Giorgetti at Homo Faber 2026

Among the new presences this year, orchestrated by the 2026 edition’s artistic director (and current Wallpaper* guest editor) Es Devlin, is Giorgetti, as the Italian furniture brand’s creative director Giancarlo Bosio explains. ‘For a company like Giorgetti, which for 128 years has built its identity around the dialogue between design, materials and craftsmanship, the desire to become part of it came naturally’, says Bosio. ‘Our conversations with the Michelangelo Foundation began shortly before the summer, when the curatorial concept for the 2026 edition had already been defined. It was our encounter with Es Devlin that opened up a new possibility.’ It was a certain affinity with her own design vision that led Devlin to incorporate the brand into an exhibition narrative that was already well established, Bosio explains.

The choice fell on a series of Giorgetti’s ‘Summa’ poufs, deliberately designed without backrests, which could sit harmoniously within the Fondazione Giorgio Cini’s Palladian Refectory. ‘Their apparent simplicity allows the quality of the detailing and the high level of craftsmanship behind them to emerge with particular clarity,’ explains Bosio. ‘Despite the short timeframe, the collaboration developed very naturally because it grew out of a genuine dialogue. It was never simply a matter of displaying a product, but rather of understanding how Giorgetti’s design language could become an integral part of the curatorial narrative conceived by Es Devlin.’

The resulting, evocative installation within the refectory, titled A Feast of Light – one of 15 conceived by Devlin for the event – celebrates the purity of white. ‘It is a space that naturally invites contemplation and creates a dialogue between architecture, art and human presence. I believe Es Devlin saw precisely this quality as the ideal context in which our contribution could find its most authentic meaning,’ says Bosio. ‘Our role was not to add a scenographic element, but rather to contribute to the experience visitors have within the space. I like to think that this is exactly what the project expresses: a moment in which design steps away from the foreground and instead chooses to enter into a relationship with the artwork, the architecture and the people experiencing them.’

In this sense, ‘Summa’ – which appears as a cylindrical pouf, sliced into separate vertical sections and recomposed in elements upholstered in contrasting fabrics and leathers – stems from an exploration of geometry and the way form is constructed through material, leaving the piece open to interpretation. ‘At first glance, it appears extremely essential, yet it embodies considerable technical complexity and a highly tailored approach to craftsmanship,’ says Bosio. It was precisely this versatility, he adds, that allowed Devlin to reinterpret the design while remaining entirely true to its identity. ‘Rather than adapting “Summa” to the installation, we allowed the installation itself to reveal a different expressive dimension of the piece.’

Paradoxically, the challenge of this project was one of reduction. ‘“Summa” was conceived as a design that celebrates the relationship between different materials and colours. For A Feast of Light, however, we chose to remove colour entirely and allow the materials themselves to carry all the expressive weight.’ Devlin selected two fabrics and one leather, all united by the same shade of white. In this way, Bosio continues, the piece no longer relies on chromatic contrast, but instead comes to life through the depth of its surfaces, the tactile qualities of the materials and the countless nuances revealed by the light.

‘It was a particularly interesting experience because it reminded us just how much narrative richness material can hold, even when it appears visually uniform.’ In this reinterpretation for Homo Faber, colour dissolves, leaving the materiality of the surfaces to take centre stage. ‘My first impression was that I could immediately recognise “Summa” and, at the same time, see it almost disappear. It steps away from being an object to be observed and becomes instead an element that helps shape the experience, actively becoming part of it.’

Ultimately, Giorgetti’s presence in this platform has a broader significance. ‘For us, Homo Faber is not an isolated occasion, but the beginning of a broader journey,’ concludes Bosio. ‘We believe that today a brand like Giorgetti should also engage with contexts where design intersects with art, architecture and contemporary culture. Not in order to seek out new languages, but to continue expressing our own through different perspectives.’

Homo Faber 2026 runs until 30 September 2026.

For more on Es Devlin read her Wallpaper* guest-editor interview and studio tour.

For our full Homo Faber review, read: Es Devlin casts Homo Faber 2026 in a new light

Upon entering this year’s Homo Faber – the fourth edition of the biennial showcase staged on Venice’s San Giorgio Maggiore – visitors find a workshop caught in a moment of pause. Tools and materials lie scattered across benches; illuminated shelves are strewn with models, maquettes, samples and dust, as though the artisans have momentarily stepped outside. Then, from the darkness at the far end of the room, a screen flickers into life with footage of skilled hands at work. Narrated in the soothing voice of British artist and stage designer Es Devlin, the exhibition’s artistic director (and a new Wallpaper* guest editor), the film prepares us for the onward journey.

‘As you meet each piece, you're meeting a pair of hands and a body and a mind – a conduit to place, conditions, culture, weather, ideas and time,' says Devlin. 'Every object was made in a room like this, at a table covered in tools and trash, each found its form from chaos.' A door swings open and we are ushered through.

It is exactly this kind of atmospheric scene-setting – Devlin’s ability to harness light and sound to create an almost spiritual experience – for which she has become globally renowned, from stage designs for Beyoncé’s Renaissance tour and U2’s residency at the Sphere in Las Vegas to the kinetic UK Pavilion at Expo 2020 Dubai. At Homo Faber, she follows in the footsteps of film director Luca Guadagnino and architect Nicolò Rosmarini, who directed the 2024 edition.

The biennial is produced by the Michelangelo Foundation, a Geneva-based nonprofit established in 2016 by Richemont chairman Johann Rupert and Italian cultural entrepreneur Franco Cologni. Rupert serves as its president, while his daughter Hanneli Rupert, the Foundation’s executive vice-president, has led the development of Homo Faber since 2022. Devlin’s ability to combine large-scale scenography with an emphasis on individual human stories makes her a natural choice.

Across the sequence of 15 spaces that follows, we encounter a potentially overwhelming array of more than 700 objects by over 500 makers from upwards of 70 countries. Using this year’s theme, An Island of Light, as an organising principle, Devlin has structured the exhibition around different ways of perceiving craft: maker, silhouette, material, element, process, translucency, colour and sound. By doing so, she encourages us to slow our pace and look at familiar materials and objects anew.

In An Alphabet of Objects a circular rotating structure that you can walk in and around (something of a Devlin trademark, seen this year in Milan and at Castle Howard, UK) carries more than 100 works across it shelves. Visitors can examine the objects from all angles as they slowly sail past, casting extraordinary shadows on the walls.

Further on, in Fondazione Giorgio Cini’s former 1960s swimming pool, a glowing semicircular shelf laden with rotund vessels emerges from the water like a rising moon, illuminating the darkened space. In the background, Devlin recites Jean Toomer’s Evening Song: ‘Full moon rising on the waters of my heart, / Lakes and moon and fires, / Cloine tires, / Holding her lips apart.’

Called Full Moon Rising, the display pays homage to the Korean moon jar – a centuries-old functional vessel with a moon-like silhouette made of two halves – through specially commissioned interpretations handcrafted in ceramics, paper, glass, metal and other materials displayed in two rows that run along either side of the pool. The effect is hypnotic, encouraging visitors to lose themselves in their surfaces. From the rock-like texture of Patricia Shone’s Earth Jar to the six tentacles and countless eyes of Heidi Tarver’s Moon over the Pacific, each one invites closer inspection.

In A Rooted Ascent, Devlin asked the curators to find objects made exclusively from materials that had 'started as a seed' – including wood, reeds and lacquer. What interests her is the extraordinary variety produced by human hands from this shared organic origin – from the wild, untamed form of pieces like Andrea Mancuso's Silva chair made in collaboration with master carpenter Luciano Tousco, to Heechan Kim’s staggeringly intricate #20 sculpture, in which maple veneer is bent into flawless curves and stitched with copper wire.

In An Atelier Alive guests are given the chance to see the master artisans at work. In a polished studio space surrounded by dozens of completed masterpieces, embroiderer Laura Baverstock told us about the 200 hours she spent creating a watch dial for Vacheron Constantin featuring a prowling tiger, worked in nine-carat yellow- and white-gold embroidery wire, specially developed black ceramic-coated wire and green silk. Across all three editions attended by Wallpaper*, these encounters with makers have consistently proved the exhibition’s most illuminating element.

'The main protagonists of this work are the artisans themselves, they are the rockstars for me,' Devlin stressed, and for much of the exhibition this is overwhelmingly true: their 500 portraits even constitute one of its 15 immersive installations. In some of the more visually stimulating spaces, however, the scenography occasionally threatens to eclipse the work it was designed to illuminate.

Inside the dizzyingly mirrored An Infinite Birdsong, for example, it is easy to become absorbed by the kaleidoscopic experience rather than the individual pieces of bird- and insect-inspired jewellery. It reveals the tightrope Devlin must walk throughout: how to use spectacle to command attention for craft without allowing spectacle to become the principal attraction.

In an era of artificial intelligence, algorithmic sameness and frictionless consumption, it is moving to witness the extraordinary dedication these artisans bring to their work. An Island of Light treats craft as embodied knowledge, illuminating the intimate relationship between human hands, natural materials and time – forms of intelligence that are increasingly at risk of being undervalued.

'When I was a teenager, there was a famous song by Grace Jones called “Slave to the Rhythm”,' remarked Homo Faber’s general director Alberto Cavalli at the opening. 'I’m afraid this new generation is becoming rather slave to the algorithm.' Manual skill, he argued, offers young people a means of affirming their individuality, vision and creativity.

Homo Faber is, in part, an exercise in resisting the digital trend: giving forms of specialist knowledge an international platform and demonstrating that, far from nostalgic, they remain capable of evolution. Here, makers and their work are treated with a degree of theatrical seriousness more commonly reserved for fine art.

Yet the exhibition also advances a particular conception of craft: exceptional, rarefied, exquisitely staged and frequently aligned with the luxury market. That is hardly accidental. Richemont’s maisons depend upon the proposition that hand skill, rarity, time and inherited knowledge imbue an object with value. Supporting the craft ecosystem is therefore not wholly detached philanthropy; it also protects the skills and value system upon which brands including Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels and Vacheron Constantin rely.

This does not make Homo Faber’s mission disingenuous. Rather, it reveals the complexity – and perhaps the effectiveness – of the enterprise: cultural, philanthropic and commercial interests collide in a shared argument for the value of human making. At its best, An Island of Light makes that argument powerfully.

Homo Faber runs until 30 September 2026, Fondazione Giorgio Cini, San Giorgio Maggiore Island, Venice

homofaber.com

Since its founding in 1921, generations of loyal Moto Guzzi enthusiasts have made pilgrimages to the historic motorcycle producer’s Lake Como-side factory, often simply to take a photograph in front of its iconic red gate. Now, after 105 years in business and almost five years of renovations led by American architect Greg Lynn, the Mandello del Lario campus and production facility is opening to the public with a newly designed museum, event space, shop and café.

Travelling to the Moto Guzzi headquarters is an experience in itself. Located on the eastern shore of Lake Como, the leafy grounds are wedged picturesquely between the steep, rocky foothills of the Prealps and the lake’s tranquil, indigo-blue waters – which, on the day of the opening, are dotted with sailboats and glossy wooden Rivas skimming across the surface.

The company’s founders were wise to establish production in this spectacular location back in 1921, when Carlo Guzzi and Giorgio Parodi began turning their plans for a new kind of motorcycle into reality. Over the century that followed, Moto Guzzi became one of the defining names of Italian motorcycling, its machines serving everyone from ordinary commuters and racing champions to the Italian military and police. By 1934, it was the country’s largest motorcycle manufacturer; during the Second World War, production shifted almost entirely to motorcycles for the Italian Army, while in the postwar period its bikes were adopted by the Polizia di Stato, Carabinieri and the Corazzieri, the presidential guard.

More than 160 of these machines are on display in the new Lynn-designed museum, which, from the exterior, resembles a cluster of grey cupolas rising and falling across the site. Their jagged silhouettes echo the rocky backdrop of the surrounding mountains while striking a distinctly contemporary contrast with the traditional, farmhouse-like buildings that populate the rest of the complex.

Yet, according to Lynn – a pioneer of digitally driven architecture who was awarded the Golden Lion for Lifetime Achievement at the 2016 Venice Architecture Biennale – this dialogue with the landscape happened largely by accident. ‘I work a lot digitally and we often create these really big models in the office,’ he explains, sitting on a circular OMA-designed sofa by UniFor in the museum’s pristine, all-white foyer, lit from above by skylights whose forms recall gears or spoked wheels. ‘So we never really saw the museum against the mountains. We didn’t anticipate the form resonating so well.’

Instead, the building’s distinctive geometry grew out of the organisation of the interior, which divides the 3,000 sq m museum into a series of interconnected spaces dedicated to different aspects of Moto Guzzi’s history. Within, the collection ranges from the GP, the unique prototype that marked the beginning of Moto Guzzi’s story, to contemporary models, alongside racing bikes and motorcycles associated with cinema, travel, the arts, and the military and police. Moto Guzzi and Lynn worked with the design and engineering team at UniFor to develop the exhibition spaces, a dedicated archive, bespoke structures and plinths for the motorcycles, vitrines for archival material and memorabilia, and display systems for helmets, accessories, clothing and scale models. The machines are arranged across sections devoted to subjects including racing, cinema, travel, art and military and police vehicles.

One of the complex’s most fascinating features, however, is its direct connection to the on-site production facilities. On the museum’s upper level, a viewing platform peers down onto the factory floor, allowing visitors to witness firsthand the precision engineering that goes into the making of a Moto Guzzi motorcycle. One thing visitors will immediately notice is the extensive use of robotics – including platforms that ferry motorcycles from one end of the factory floor to the other – developed in collaboration with Piaggio Fast Forward, the Boston-based robotics company founded by Moto Guzzi’s parent company, Piaggio Group, and also headed by Lynn.

It’s a strikingly high-tech spectacle that feels almost incongruous when set against the tranquil surroundings of Mandello del Lario, a juxtaposition that neatly encapsulates the new campus itself: a place where Italy’s natural beauty, industrial heritage and technological ingenuity converge. And, for the generations of Moto Guzzi devotees who have travelled here simply to stand outside its famous red gate, there is finally a reason to step inside.

LABottega has stood on Viale Apua in the Tuscan town of Pietrasanta since 1920, when art director and curator Serena del Soldato’s great-grandparents opened it as a shop on a bare stretch of the Versilia coast, adding a trattoria under the plane trees and an inn for travellers. The family remade the place in 2011, and it now runs as a restaurant, rooms and a gallery. Del Soldato owns and directs it, and has curated its exhibitions ever since.

Above the town, at Strettoia, del Soldato also runs an organic farm, called La Stellata. It’s home to geese, peacocks and goats, a kitchen garden, and some 300 quercetano olive trees, a variety safeguarded by a Slow Food presidium, across a hectare of hillside. Designers and artists are invited to the farm each year to make work inspired by the location; the pieces are built with artisans in Pietrasanta, and what they make stays, first shown in the gallery and then used to furnish the guest rooms.

Federica Elmo’s ‘Naturamagica’, from 2022, for example, saw the designer work dried acanthus branches into a bedside table, and build another table inspired by the lemons from the grove, with raw terracotta set against powder-coated metal. Her table is still in LABottega’s shared kitchen.

Outsiders residency at La Stellata in Tuscany, by Tableau and LABottega

Outsiders is the location’s latest initiative, conceived with Tableau, the Copenhagen studio and gallery founded by Julius Værnes Iversen in 2018; a floral designer by training, his practice runs from flowers to spatial design, objects and curation.

‘Outsiders grew from a shared belief that the most meaningful creative work happens when it’s rooted in a place rather than simply presented in one. Tableau brings the curatorial framework and invites artists into a dialogue with Pietrasanta’s extraordinary material culture, while Serena [del Soldato] opens the doors to a community that can’t be replicated,’ Iversen says. ‘It’s a project built on trust – fittingly, I was the very first guest at LABottega, long before we imagined creating something like this together.’

‘For me, Outsiders is about making people feel that they belong here,’ says del Soldato. ‘Pietrasanta has an incredible network of artisans, growers, neighbours and makers, and my role is to connect artists with that living community. Julius brings a fresh curatorial perspective from Copenhagen; I bring the local relationships and everyday knowledge of this place. Together we’ve created a residency where hospitality becomes part of the creative process.’

Creatives taking part in the residency work with local waste material. The first of resident, Willem van Hooff, showed an exhibition titled ‘I’m Alone With My Thoughts’ at LABottega throughout July 2026. It featured handmade ceramic vessels, each cut with a line of his own handwriting, sharing private thoughts noted during his residency, such as ‘It’s Been Good, I’ll Cry Too, I See You, Last’.

A second Outsiders residency followed at LABottega, yielding ‘Pietra Counter’, by Berlin studio Yont. It’s a modular listening bar built from marble tile offcuts supplied by Bloc Studios, the tiles lifted from the floor of its founder Sara Ferron Cima’s grandparents’ house.

Currently in residency are Jacob Egeberg and Laurids Gallée, both at work on marble discarded by the quarries above the town. Egeberg is setting thin, reflective surfaces on rough offcuts; Gallée is turning large reclaimed slabs into tabletops, steadied on smaller milled blocks that keep the stone’s irregularity in view.

Vestigia 2026

Egeberg is also showing work at Vestigia 2026 – the latest edition of the design platform, running at Villa Marie in Vorno near Lucca, until 26 September 2026 – where his work ‘Erratic’, a two-sided mirror in stainless steel whose fluid form is interrupted by two rock-like pieces of anodised aluminium, floats above a run of lavender.

The show's location is an 18th-century estate that its owners, Marleen and Luc Van Marcke, spent seven years restoring. Titled ‘Don’t Call Me Collectible!’ and curated by Cosimo Bonciani (founder of the Florence practice Bunker Studio and himself one of the exhibitors), this year’s Vestigia places work throughout the villa’s cultivated gardens, in a Lucchese landscape made muse by those like artist John Singer Sargent, who painted the nearby gardens of Villa di Marlia in watercolour in 1910.

Here, the lake, clipped shade, stone and late Tuscan glare give the pieces a grammar to answer to. Vestigia’s founder, Jonathan Bocca, shows ‘Silenti’, made with lighting specialist Ombre-1; anthropomorphic forms in Geolite, a mineral-based material, are lit from within, inviting visitors to walk beneath.

In a deliberate provocation, Bonciani frames the show against ‘collectible design’, the market category that has attached itself to work sitting between art and craft. His case, which draws from design historian Glenn Adamson, is that such labels exist mainly to sort and sell whatever escapes industrial production; the objects themselves belong to something older and less tidy, that is, studio craft and field research. Bonciani takes licence from Carlo Mollino’s line, ‘Everything is permitted, provided it is fantastic!’, to move across design, craft, sculpture and material research without tidying them into a market category.

‘The protagonist here is nature; we are secondary,’ says designer Costantino Gucci of his work ‘Altera’, a mirrored monolith that emerges from the villa’s lake. A slender oval split into two angled planes, it reflects the water and trees around it, so that whoever stands in front of it finds the surroundings looking back at them, and the sculpture all but dissolves into them.

A fragment of Breccia Medicea, the historic Apuan stone that carries the Medici name, anchors ‘Rudis’, the first work that Francesco Maria Messina has made with Acquasanta Edizioni. Its surface is left much as the stone was found, and reclaimed steel blades run through it, the spent tools of the stone-cutting itself, carrying the horizontal planes of a shelf.

Nèemĕsi’s ‘11.07 Violet’, meanwhile, takes a derelict slab of travertine, its broken edges left as they are, lacquers it in high-gloss violet and stands it on a hand-curved metal base. The studio’s piece is presented here by Movimento, the Milan gallery representing several designers at Vestigia this year, also including Tipstudio.

Tableau is also showing at Vestigia 2026, with Bloc Studios, the Carrara marble studio co-founded by Sara Ferron Cima in 2014. Together they present ‘Isole’, a cluster of vessels in veined marble and translucent onyx designed by Iversen with Elsa De Mori, each carved into an organic form, as if shaped by water and erosion.

At Villa Marie’s entrance, Iversen’s ‘Mikado Bamboo’ hangs white limonium from a bamboo gate, the flowers cut in Pietrasanta. By the pool sits the bronze ‘B-fora’ (a play on ‘amphora’) by IAMMI, the studio of Nicolau dos Santos and Stephanie Blanchard. The curve of a buttock is worked into the piece's feminine body, the metal oxidised with acid to a shifting, gold-toned patina, which Blanchard describes as melting into its surroundings.

Pietrasanta and Vorno make a Tuscan double bill, two projects and one line of research. The category they push against is older than it sounds: furniture collected as art goes back to the ‘art furniture’ of 1870s England, made to blur the line the Royal Academy kept between the fine and the decorative, and to furnish the houses of connoisseurs. What Outsiders does at La Stellata and what Vestigia does in the gardens at Villa Marie is to turn the focus back towards the workshop and the quarry, with objects that are valued for how they came to be and for what they were before. Whatever you call it, ‘collectible’ is the least of it.

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Ponder with him on the garden gnome, the awkward yet ever-present Italian domestic feature

Carlo Ratti on the garden gnome

The garden gnome is the only Italian domestic object that inspires embarrassment. No one bats an eyelid anymore at a lace doily, a ceramic umbrella stand, a dinner service decorated with lemons, or even a pair of ‘pattine’, those little slippers for polishing the floor. But the gnome? It still causes a certain discomfort. Those who own one keep it secret, with the discretion normally reserved for private vices.

Imagine an ordinary garden centre somewhere in the Italian provinces, where a gnome with a white beard and red hat costs around ten euros and sits among the geraniums and the irrigation hose. The intellectual elites have condemned it for decades. Sales have not suffered; if anything, they seem to keep growing.

Its genealogy is nobler than one might think. Its ideal ancestors are the Roman Lares agrestes, protective spirits of the fields that patrician families placed on their estates, tucked between one hedge and another. The modern version, meanwhile, was born in Thuringia at the end of the nineteenth century, when manufacturers such as Griebel and Heissner transformed the terracotta gnome into a mass-produced object. It was also around this time that the term kitsch, meaning tawdry or trashy, was coined. The object and the concept were born together.

In 2000, Philippe Starck designed Attila, Napoleon and Saint-Esprit for Kartell in painted technopolymer, lifting the form from kitsch to camp. Elio Fiorucci created Nano for Riva 1920, carved from a single block of cedar wood. More recently, designer Pellegrino Cucciniello created Nino for Plato Design, a brutalist, low-poly concrete gnome, handmade in Italy and respectable enough to enter the living room. The ten-euro terracotta gnome, naturally, continues to outsell all of them put together.

One could say that the gnome is the oldest and most rudimentary interface between house and garden. Before home automation, before irrigation sensors, before CCTV cameras, the gnome stood there, guarding the threshold between domestic and natural space. Its presence declares: this is where the house ends and the wild begins. In an age defined by sensor-laden spaces and greenhouses governed by artificial intelligence, the gnome remains the first, clumsy and touching attempt to populate the boundary between architecture and nature.

When people ask me about the ‘poly home’ – the polyamorous, multispecies house that accommodates plants, animals, robots and humans – I often think of the garden gnome. The gnome represents the primordial impulse to place a non-human presence within domestic space. An impulse that today manifests itself in autonomous Roombas and humanoid robots, but that in the nineteenth century took the form of a little terracotta man in a red cap.

It is a sentinel on a ten-euro salary, with 150 years of uninterrupted service. The most insulted and most widely purchased object in the history of Italian design. And, in this sweltering summer, the only inhabitant of the garden that never complains about the heat.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, 'Objectify', architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. This week, he's shining a light on the condominio, the residential solution that stood the test of time – and still tests us

Carlo Ratti on the condominio

This summer has not been easy for European holidaymakers. Temperatures through the roof. Wildfires across Spain, France and Italy. The EasyJet meltdown, with its nights on the floor at Gatwick. Still… It could have been worse. We could have been stuck in the city, cooped up inside a condominio, the shared apartment block where most Italians live.

Few people realise that the condominio is one of Italy’s most successful inventions, exported around the world. Its origins go back to the Casa di Diana, a second-century AD insula. While the patrician families spread horizontally through their opulent villas, the plebs went vertical. Floor upon floor, family upon family.

The success was immediate. In imperial Rome, the first city in history to pass the one-million-inhabitant mark, tens of thousands of insulae sprang up. Some reached seven or eight storeys, prompting Emperor Augustus to impose a height limit: a kind of proto-zoning code, introduced before urban planning even had a name.

But with the condominium came, alas, the condòmino: the neighbour. In his Third Satire, Juvenal explains why his friend Umbricius decided to leave Rome for Cumae: cracked walls, precarious buildings, fires and noisy neighbours. 'Quae meritoria somnum admittunt?' Meaning, 'which rented dwellings allow sleep?' History’s first condominium complaint has come down to us in hexameters.

Two thousand years later, same old story. The Sunday-morning drill, heels clattering on the floor above, the rowdy meeting to decide how to divvy up the cost of the roof. The French writer Georges Perec used just one Parisian apartment block to write Life: A User’s Manual. The Englishman J.G. Ballard, meanwhile, took a London tower block as his starting point for High-Rise, his chronicle of the unravelling of the social contract.

And yet the condominio has never stopped working. Stack enough people on top of one another, and you get urban density. You also get support, as demonstrated by the neighbourly solidarity of the Covid-19 years and the building concierge’s ever-reliable grapevine. Not to mention serendipity. Remember the Italian movie The Elevator? On the eve of Ferragosto, with the city deserted, a priest and a voluptuous woman find themselves trapped for hours in the building’s lift.

The condominio, in other words, distils a dichotomy as old as cities themselves. The longing to be together and the desire to flee. Integration and segregation. Like the Republic of Venice, which for centuries welcomed people from every corner of the Mediterranean, yet at the same time invented the ghetto, the quarter where Jews were locked in at night, on an island named after the foundry, or geto, that once stood there.

And so, even if this stifling tail end of summer is not going entirely to plan, let’s remember that things could be worse. 'Hell is other people,' wrote Sartre. Perhaps he too, one distant summer in the 1970s, found himself stuck without air conditioning in his condominio at 42 Rue Bonaparte in Paris.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Meet the lifeguard's uniform through the eyes of the design critic

Carlo Ratti on the lifeguard's uniform

For one hundred and fifty-five years, the 'Società Nazionale di Salvamento,' or National Lifesaving Society, has set the guidelines for Italy’s lifeguards. Let us examine them through the eyes of a design critic. First, Italian lifeguards are an essential safeguard. According to estimates, every summer they save tens of thousands of people from drowning: extraordinary numbers that transform what could be a tragic seasonal tally into infinite safe returns home.

But they are also a visual landmark. Let’s forget about Olympic neoprene suits signed by Giorgio Armani! The red tank top – often faded by sun and salt – is, from June to September, a visual anchor planted along Italy’s 8,000-km-long coastline. It is a true piece of living architecture that deserves a few lines of critical attention.

Let us begin with its origins. The International Life Saving Federation recommends yellow for the upper half of lifeguard uniforms and red for the trunks below. Australia and Britain have turned this guideline into a masterpiece of Anglo-Saxon standardisation: identical uniforms, defined materials, strict codes, an almost military aesthetic. From Sydney to St Ives, the lifeguard sports a walkie-talkie, a cap, technical sunglasses and zinc oxide on the nose.

Italy, by contrast, with the nonchalance of a country that treats international guidelines as suggestions rather than obligations, continues to dress its lifeguards in deep red, from the neck down to mid-thigh. It is the same red as Tinder, the world’s most downloaded dating app.

On the beach, salvation wears the colour of desire – as Baywatch also taught us. In a country that gave the world Valentino red and Ferrari red, the lifeguard’s tank top belongs to a similar chromatic dynasty, even when bleached by the sun.

The garment is equally defined by freedom. Apart from the identifying lettering, which must be clearly legible on both front and back, Italian regulations specify very little. The design is shaped precisely by this absence of rules.

The uniform thus becomes a blank canvas for individual vanity: low-cut tank tops, salt-faded T-shirts, vintage shorts and movie-star sunglasses. It is not a dogma, but a fashion statement – a uniform worn almost like a trophy which, between the 1970s and the 1980s, from the Riviera Romagnola to the beaches of Versilia, fuelled Italian erotic comedy and the dreams of Northern European tourists.

The lifeguard’s outfit reveals a fundamental tension in every human project: the balance between top-down codification and bottom-up freedom. These are precisely the mechanisms that Bernard Rudofsky placed at the centre of his celebrated twentieth-century studies on vernacular architecture, culminating in the iconic exhibition Architecture Without Architects at MoMA in New York (1964). Again and again, a delicate balance between rules and freedom produces the most fascinating and attractive designs.

So, despite modest pay, exhausting shifts and the inevitable sunburn (an occupational hazard, one might say!), for thousands of Italian eighteen-year-olds the lifeguard certification exam remains an essential rite of passage.

It is an opportunity to combine responsibility and vanity. And, through their uniform, to become the unexpected designers of Italy’s seaside landscape.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

Ricehouse, an emerging practice from Italy, joins the Wallpaper* Architects Directory 2026, our annual round-up of exciting emerging architecture studios.

Who: Ricehouse

Founded in 2016 by Tiziana Monterisi and Alessio Colombo, Ricehouse is an Italian company working at the intersection of architecture, material R&D and circular economy. Monterisi is an architect with experience in bio-ecological architecture. Her long-term collaboration with the artist Michelangelo Pistoletto deepened her approach to the relationship between art, territory and social responsibility. Colombo is a geologist with a background in research and material innovation.

The team transforms by-products of the rice production supply chain, which include husk, straw and other agricultural residues, into natural building materials for healthier, lower-impact living environments. Their materials and products include thermal insulating plasters, lightweight screeds, and prefabricated panels. These solutions provide high-performance insulation that are breathable, durable, that naturally support thermal regulation and indoor air quality. At the end of their life cycle, they can be reused or returned to nature.

Ricehouse’s architectural approach is part of a wider biological and territorial system. ‘What motivates us is the possibility of giving new value to a resource that is considered a waste,’ they explain. ‘We work with materials often overlooked and transform them into building solutions with a strong environmental and cultural value.’

What: Casa LH

Casa LH is a single-story house that sits within natural parkland in Piedmont, Italy. The new-build property features materials sourced from the rice supply chain and is conceived according to the principles of green building. Rice waste is the material used as insulation between the prefabricated fir panel walls. Externally, bamboo decking was installed to reflect the existing surroundings and for its durability. Inside, all furnishings like the bed, table and sofa structure were constructed from oak.

A mechanical ventilation system provides for heating and cooling while the majority of the triple-glazed openings are located on the south elevation and feature a low-emissivity coating. The house has a garden roof that serves as an example of natural thermal regulation and filtration, it is a haven for biodiversity. Trees and plants such as the existing wisteria provide natural shading – this dies back in the winter to allow passive solar gain.

Why: Architects Directory 2026

When the Wallpaper* Architects’ Directory was conceived in 2000, it was built as our bespoke international index of emerging architectural talent. Now in its 25th edition, our annual listing of promising practices from across the globe (now comprising over 500 alumni) champions the best and most promising young studios - a snapshot of talent showcasing inspiring work from all corners of the Earth with an emphasis on the residential realm.

This year’s anniversary survey includes 30 young studios (one for each of the 30 years of Wallpaper*), from Australia, Bahrain, Benin, Brazil, Canada, Chile, China, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, Greece, France, Ivory Coast, Italy, Japan, Kenya, Kuwait, India, Morocco, New Zealand, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Spain, Switzerland, the UK, the USA, and Vietnam. Welcome to the promise, ideas and exciting architecture of the Wallpaper* Architects’ Directory 2026.

ricehouse.it

Hot on the heels of recent residential projects in the UAE and Brazil, Pininfarina has announced its first foray into single-family houses with a new US project launched at Monterey Car Week 2026. The multi-faceted design agency, now led by CEO Paolo Dellachà, covers a huge spread of industrial and architectural design, so the new American venture is a natural next step.

Explore Pininfarina's first US foray

Dubbed the Collection Sei Design by Pininfarina and overseen by the company’s chief architectural officer Samuele Sordi, each of the six fully furnished estate designs is intended as a complete package, shaped, built, furnished and decorated by the Italian studio. All you have to do is bring the site – a plot of 20,000 sq ft minimum is required.

The project has come about via a partnership with luxury homebuilder Manny Angelo Varas and MV Group USA. Although each villa is unique, they each measure around 8,000 sq ft and have a shared aesthetic, particularly in the use of curved balconies, covered terraces, and sliding screens. The intention is clearly to ensnare the attention of those who obsess over the bespoke process, whether in a house, a car or a yacht.

The studio hopes that the famed Pininfarina script logo will be enough to carry interested buyers through to completion, with each property offered at a turnkey cost of $16,950,000 (excluding the price of the land, of course). The initial renders show the houses in a variety of locations, but it’s the Miami-adjacent plots that look the most convincing, with the curved balconies acting as a suitable foil for superyachts, not just supercars.

Dellachà tied the launch into the 60th anniversary of favourite Pininfarina design, the Alfa Romeo Duetto – also hugely popular in the USA. ‘We are proud to unveil this remarkable project as we celebrate the anniversary of the Duetto, one of Alfa Romeo's most iconic cars, a timeless symbol that has inspired generations of Americans,’ the CEO said. ‘Created with Manny Angelo Varas, Collection Sei Design by Pininfarina is driven by the same vision. Set in extraordinary locations, the six villas will embody the highest expression of elegance, combining timeless design with exceptional craftsmanship. Just as the Duetto became an icon of Italian style, this collection aspires to set a new benchmark for luxury living in the United States.’

Pininfarina’s Sordi describes the project as ‘not simply a luxury home, but a collectable residence – one that elevates the rituals of everyday life.’ As well as deploying familiar architectural tropes such as ‘dissolving the boundaries between architecture and landscape’, the six houses are sleek and modern without being especially avant-garde or progressive. For the right buyer, they’ll be just the ticket.

Pininfarina.it

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Meet the Autogrill Bridge, Italy’s ubiquitous motorway restaurant chain

Carlo Ratti on the Autogrill bridge

Here we are, in the middle of Italy's great summer exodus. Today we are driving along the ribbon of asphalt that links Milan to Naples, the Autostrada del Sole, “Highway of the Sun”. Through the shimmering afternoon heat, a vision appears ahead. What could it be? A truck that has strayed across the median? An oversized billboard? A giant frog about to leap, after plunging us into a Lilliputian world?

We accelerate, and a few hundred metres on, the mystery is solved… It is all three things at once: the Autogrill bridge (Autogrill is Italy’s ubiquitous motorway restaurant chain, so dominant that its brand name has become the generic word for a rest stop).

It straddles both carriageways with a shortcut that would be forbidden anywhere else on the motorway network. It is a branded landmark, complete with the inevitable Autogrill sign. And with its exposed structure, it resembles a nimble creature frozen in the instant before a jump.

Few people know that this innovative architectural type attracted some of post-war Italy's greatest architects and engineers, from Angelo Bianchetti to Pier Luigi Nervi.

In the 1960s, the motorway was one of the great stages on which modern Italy performed, and the bridge Autogrill became its suspended gallery. It connected not only the two sides of the road, but two Italies as well: north and south, outbound and homebound, families on the move during the summer migrations. At the time, Italy looked in awe at America's highways, yet instead of simply copying their model, it created something distinctly Italian: elegant, urban, and entirely its own.

One of Bianchetti's original drawings depicts the Montepulciano bridge Autogrill, now sadly demolished. Beneath a great asymmetrical T-shaped Corten-steel beam hangs the glazed bridge itself, visually lightened at one end by a dramatic cantilevered staircase. The carriageway below is so smooth it mirrors the sky. Along it glide improbable automobiles whose silhouettes recall Carlo Mollino's Bisiluro or Buckminster Fuller's Dymaxion.

The real surprise, though, awaits upstairs. There, in the dining area, a sort of Newtonian inversion takes place. Looking through the windows that plunge directly over the traffic below, the building seems to rocket backwards at extraordinary speed while the cars remain perfectly still beneath it. 'It is impossible to step twice into the same river of sheet metal,' Heraclitus might have declared.

Even more impossible today, since the lack of long-term vision for Italy's motorways has led to the demolition of many of these remarkable structures. The iconic Montepulciano bridge Autogrill, mentioned earlier, was torn down in 2021. The one at Fiano Romano, just outside Rome, has stood closed for years and now risks the same fate. Many others simply deserve careful restoration to recover their original elegance.

Which is precisely why they deserve to be rediscovered. They could once again become what they once were: the manifesto of an optimistic country, confident enough to look to the future with lightness and imagination - and capable of creating elegance where one would least expect it, even above a ribbon of asphalt.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

In our monthly series, we highlight the products, places and experiences we’ve bookmarked – and that you won’t want to miss.

The gallery circuit may be your best ally for escaping the ongoing London heatwave. Fortunately, August’s art calendar offers plenty of respite: from War Child’s Secret 7" project at 180 Studios, where seven musicians each press a track onto 100 vinyls and artists create a one-of-a-kind sleeve for every copy, to John Currin’s women with exaggerated physiques, set against Arcadian backdrops on Savile Row. When you get to lunch, skip the stuffy à la carte marathon – the snack of the summer is the Nepalese momo.

Escaped the city instead? A wise decision. We’re headed to Bali, where the Jia Curated architectural showcase takes over throughout August, and to Puglia, where festival season goes folkloric at La Notte della Taranta. If New York is on your radar, the season’s breakout star is Flaco, Central Park’s famously resilient escaped owl, now the subject of his own documentary, playing in select (air-conditioned) theatres.

The exhibitions: Secret 7”, ‘Portrait of a City’, John Currin

Hannah Silver, art, culture, watches & jewellery editor

August is a great month to enjoy exhibitions usually missed due to the normal hectic schedule. Take this pause before the back-to-school chaos of September and the frantic run-up to Christmas (too early?) to catch some quieter yet brilliant London shows. I'm particularly looking forward to War Child's exhibition of 7" sleeve designs by artists including Clare Twomey, Thierry Noir, Murugiah and Orlando Weeks, which sits nicely at the intersection of music and art. Elsewhere, 'Portrait of a City: A Century of American Photography' at Dulwich Picture Gallery promises to be a beautiful documentation of American urban life, and I hope to finally catch John Currin's masterful paintings at Sadie Coles.

The Secret 7" 2026 sleeves will be displayed at 180 Studios from 18-30 August

Portrait of a City: A Century of American Photography' runs at Dulwich Picture Gallery until 4 October

John Currin: Opening Credits' runs at Sadie Coles until 12 September

The pick-me-up: ‘Wild Inside’

Anna Fixsen, US editor

Everyone and their brother seems to be gushing about The Odyssey, but my summer to-watch list is topped by a different epic: a documentary chronicling the life of Flaco, an intrepid Eurasian eagle-owl who escaped his enclosure at the Central Park Zoo. Flaco, who was born and raised in captivity, went on the lam in February 2023. No one expected him to survive the mean streets of Manhattan – let alone fly and learn how to hunt. But Flaco defied expectations (and capture), going on to become a metaphor for a specific kind of New York City grit and resilience.

Award-winning filmmaker Penny Lane recounts the Flaco story in Wild Inside, a 90-minute film about the avian phenom and his against-the-odds transition into a wild creature. (I myself, during long summer runs in Central Park, would pause to search for Flaco in his favoured oak tree.) This documentary is heartfelt, sure (animal lovers may want to bring a hanky), but it touches on something bigger than New York’s orange-eyed feathered friend – the delicate boundary that divides our built environment and the natural world. Catch Wild Inside in select theatres beginning 31 July.

The dish: Momo

Anna Solomon, digital staff writer

Our art editor swears by House of Momo, the Dalston Nepalese spot known for its half-moon dumplings stuffed with minced meat or vegetables and served with a fiery dipping sauce. A staple across Tibet and the Himalayan region, momo has recently cooked up a reputation as one of London's most satisfying snacks.

So when I heard that Eat Momo – the no-frills Borough Yards canteen founded by sisters Trishna and Dipa Chamling as a tribute to the food they grew up with – had set up shop at my local pub in Leyton, I decided to check it out. Try these pillowy pockets of goodness at Coach and Horses on Leyton High Road, where they’re in residency for the foreseeable future.

The music festival: La Notte della Taranta

Gabriel Annouka, art editor

Forget beach clubs: this August, I'm heading to Puglia for La Notte della Taranta, where the best summer nights happen in small Italian towns rather than crowded resorts. I’m dreaming of hypnotic tambourines, a sea of people dancing pizzica, and a night in Melpignano with Ermal Meta at the helm of this year’s legendary Concertone.

La Notte della Taranta runs until August 23, with 20 stops in different towns across Salento

The cultural event: Jia Curated

Ellie Stathaki, architecture & environment director

If I were going to Bali this summer – I am sadly not! – I'd love to visit Jia Curated, the Bali-based annual gathering founded in 2022 by Budiman Ong, Rudi Winata and Yang Yang Hartono. This year's theme is 'Nature Weave', and, fuelled by the festival's community spirit, one of its architectural offerings, 'Architecture in Scale', zooms in on the work of a selection of architecture studios that consistently weave biophilia into their practice. The exhibition includes 25 models from studios across Indonesia, Singapore, Taiwan and Japan, including Kengo Kuma + Associates, Andramatin, Elora Hardy's Ibuku Studio and Cheng Tsung Feng. A Wallpaper* story by our Singapore editor Daven Wu will follow later this month. Watch this space.

Jia Curated 2026 runs from 13-17 August at Pengembak Beach, Sanur, Bali

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, 'Objectify,' architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Meet the Campari Soda bottle, the design that houses the country's favourite aperitif

Carlo Ratti on the Campari Soda bottle

It announces itself by silhouette alone. Around six in the evening between June and October, it becomes the destination of a collective migration, the pivot around which Italian life reorganizes itself. This is the Campari Soda bottle, the first single-serve aperitif in history.

To design it, in 1932, Fortunato Depero simply turned a glass upside down. It has stayed the same ever since: a frosted, inverted goblet, without a label, the name etched into the glass. In the same way, Campari inverted the idea of the aperitif, which stopped being something mixed by the bartender and became a prêt-à-boire, a drink already sealed, fresh and pre-mixed. An exact measure, one that stays cold and never goes flat.

The liquid inside the bottle has older origins. Gaspare Campari, the tenth child of a Lombard farmer, perfected the secret recipe in Novara (a city between Milan and Turin) in 1860, colouring it with cochineal, a parasitic insect. His son Davide, who grew up behind the counter at the Caffè Campari in Milan's Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II (the city's famous shopping arcade), turned the family business into an empire.

The bottle had no ordinary designer. Depero was a leading figure of the Futurist movement, part of the inner circle of Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, and believed that advertising was 'the most vital of the arts.' Futurism, though, was no mild faith. It celebrated speed, machines and war, and it soon fell in with Mussolini's regime. In 1943 Depero published A Passo Romano ('At the Roman Step,' a reference to the goose-step march), a book of openly fascist verse that he tried to have forgotten after the war.

In a similar way, the Campari bottle became the opposite of everything its author believed in. Another about-turn. Futurism exalted speed and strength, so much so that it launched a crusade against pasta, that 'passéist food' which 'weighs you down, brutalises, deludes you as to its nutritional value, and makes you sceptical, slow, pessimistic.'

Today the Campari Soda accompanies one of the least futurist rituals one could imagine, the pleasure of lingering in the sun over an aperitif, your gaze lost in the melting ice. A bottle born to embody a militant, nationalist modernity is bought, more often than not, in the little grocery shop downstairs. Same cone, same red, opposite meanings.

What do all these about-turns tell us? That design does not follow simple paths. Objects are born for a precise purpose and within a particular cultural context, but then they resurface elsewhere with unexpected meanings.

It is much like natural evolution, used to make sense of the artificial world ever since Samuel Butler's 1863 pamphlet Darwin among the Machines, a long chain of trial and error in which success is impossible to predict. Iterations, as engineers would say, do not respond linearly. Forms survive, migrate, adapt; meanings transform. One generation after another, everything can turn upside down.

When the day ends, the bottle sits empty on the metal table, refracting the last light of evening. An avant-garde that wanted to conquer the future has ended up bottling the present: red, cold and stubbornly idle.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

Around the turn of the 20th century, the Lido, a seven-mile barrier island in the Venetian Lagoon, was home to some of the grandest hotels in Europe. It inspired Thomas Mann to pen his novella Death in Venice there in 1912, and, two decades later, was so cinematic that it became the home of the Venice Film festival.

Even if you don’t have plans to visit Venice this summer, New York’s Galerie56 is offering the next-best thing – for design buffs, anyway. Now through 17 October, the Manhattan art and design outpost is teaming up with Italy’s prestigious Nilufar gallery on a new exhibition of design rarities called ‘Nilufar Grand Hotel, Vista Mare.’

The residency (Nilufar’s second stateside presentation with Galerie56) is a continuation of the Milanese collectible design powerhouse’s Milan Design Week show, ‘Grand Hotel’, in which gallery founder Nina Yashar reimagined the Nilufar Depot as if it were a sumptuous Old World resort. The New York version, similarly, uses design treasures to conjure a hotel – only this time, one set in the Lido.

‘I found myself returning to the atmosphere of Venice in summer – not Venice as a destination, but Venice as an idea: a place where architecture, water, light, memory and culture merge into a singular, evocative experience,’ said Galerie56 founder, architect Lee Mindel.

Mindel, working with the Nilufar team, hand-selected objects that conjured a sunny beach scene in the Lido – a place the architect first visited as a teenager. An ultra-rare, Formica-topped Carlo Mollino dining table, first designed in 1956, forms an imaginary lobby, flanked by a pair of minimalist wood ‘Miguelito’ chairs by Mexican architect Luis Barragán. Opposite the entrance, a golden ‘40s-era knotted rug designed by Swedish designer Barbro Nilsson forms an expanse of ‘sand’, while a round Fontana Arte cocktail table and whimsical Gabriella Crespi floor lamp evoke the sun and a cheerful beach umbrella, respectively.

Fans of Crespi, the glamorous multidisciplinary Italian designer who rose to fame during the 1950s, will find many delights here, from a carved-wood table lamp in the shape of a frog; to rattan furniture; to a set of gleaming brass drawers created for Christian Dior; to a futuristic metallic floor lamp that sprouts from the floor like buoys floating on the sea. Other design masters, including Gio Ponti, Martino Gamper and the Italian-born Brazilian designer Lina Bo Bardi, make cameos.

One of the most enticing items in the show is actually one of the oldest – a scroll-shaped mirror and shelf designed by Carlo Bugatti. Created in 1902 – a decade before Mann authored Death in Venice – the piece feels at once of its era and strikingly modern, thanks to a stenciled Art Nouveau iris border; embossed copper and mother of pearl decorative elements; and a small hinged cupboard that opens to reveal diminutive drawers and turned columns evocative of Piazza San Marco.

‘They are works of exceptional craftsmanship and beauty, but they also carry stories, cultural references, and emotional resonance,’ Mindel said. ‘“Grand Hotel, Vista Mare” is ultimately a celebration of those connections – an exploration of hospitality, elegance and the enduring romance of Italian design.’

'Grand Hotel, Vista Mare' is on view through 17 October at Galerie56, located at 240 Church Street New York, NY, USA 10013

An Italian summer holiday can feel like familiar territory: centuries-old palazzi, leisurely aperitivi and endless Mediterranean sunsets. Yet this year’s crop of hotel openings and restorations proves there’s still plenty of room for reinvention. From painstaking renovations that breathe new life into historic landmarks to design-led beach retreats in Sicily, these are Italy’s most exciting hotel openings, reopenings and reimaginings for 2026.

All that’s new in Italian hotels this summer

The Dolomites

Hotel Ambra Cortina d’Ampezzo

The beloved family-run mountainside bolthole Ambra Cortina has emerged as one of the Dolomites’ most fashionable hotels in recent years, thanks to its forward-thinking hospitality concepts that rival the design-led boutique hotels of Paris or London. Recently, the 24-room boutique hotel opened Lanterna HiFi Bar & Lounge, the first of its kind in the Dolomites. Spend a post-hike evening listening to vinyl in the lounge, or sip cocktails at Zelda’s Cocktail Club, a cosy drinking den decorated with playful ephemera by Toiletpaper magazine.

Hotel Ambra Cortina d’Ampezzo is located at Via XXIX Maggio, 28, 32043 Cortina d’Ampezzo, Italy

Rosapetra Spa Resort

Italian furniture brand Henge has ventured into hospitality with the unveiling of the Henge Suite at Rosapetra Spa Resort in Cortina d’Ampezzo. Perched beneath the timber eaves of the five-star hotel overlooking the Unesco-listed Dolomites, the design-forward retreat was conceived by architect Isabella Genovese as a contemporary interpretation of alpine living. Eschewing chalet clichés in favour of a restrained palette of bespoke joinery, natural materials and sculptural furnishings, the suite features a private sauna, a freestanding bathtub, a fireplace and a 50-square-metre terrace framing uninterrupted views of the Tofane peaks.

Rosapetra Spa Resort is located at Località Zuel di Sopra, 1, 32043 Cortina d’Ampezzo, Italy

Florence

La Darbia

A peaceful escape with access to wineries in Chianti and Florence (just a 25-minute drive away), La Darbia sits on a hilltop estate spanning 15 hectares of olive groves, meadows, and lavender fields. Restored by Studio Primatesta, the intimate retreat is the result of a meticulous renovation that preserves the 11th-century site’s original character and heritage. A contemporary spark comes through local materials – pietra serena, terracotta, travertine, and wood – and traditional craftsmanship techniques, such as intricate woodwork by Flavio Bettio, which ground its sense of place. Tucked into a trio of historic farmhouses, each of the 17 light-filled suites (four of which cater to families) is individually decorated with layered textures, while the windows frame the rolling countryside. The restaurant, led by Chef Sebastiano Pagliaro, serves seasonal Tuscan cuisine. All guests have access to two panoramic swimming pools. LC

La Darbia is located at Via Case Sparse (Greve), 16, 50022 Greve in Chianti, Italy

Villa San Michele, A Belmond Hotel, Florence

The much-anticipated reopening of Belmond’s Villa San Michele, a former Franciscan monastery in Florence’s Fiesole hills, was celebrated in April 2026 with a star-studded bash that counted Gwyneth Paltrow and Alexa Chung among the guests. But the real draw this summer is the property’s restyling by Luigi Fragola Architects, whose elegant facelift of the historic hotel included a brand-new Guerlain spa, the new dining concept Antesi by Chef Alessandro Cozzolino, and the intimate Bar Doccia for relaxed aperitivi.

Villa San Michele, A Belmond Hotel, Florence is located at Via Doccia, 4, 50014 Fiesole, Italy

Hotel Savoy

Following openings in Milan and Rome, Rocco Forte is continuing its Italian Grand Tour with a new outpost in Florence. The Hotel Savoy Rocco Forte opened this spring in the city’s Piazza della Repubblica neighbourhood, bringing together 79 elegantly appointed rooms and suites by Olga Polizzi, a museum-worthy collection of contemporary Italian art, the restaurant Irene and Bar Artemisia, where legendary bartender Salvatore Calabrese serves signature cocktails beneath frescoed ceilings.

Hotel Savoy is located at Piazza della Repùbblica, 7, 50123 Florence, Italy

Lake Como

Casabianca Suites

The De Santis family has already made their mark on Lake Como’s hotel scene with Passalacqua and Grand Hotel Tremezzo, so it’s little surprise that their latest project similarly unites art, design and hospitality. Casabianca began life as an art gallery in the town of Como and now expands its remit with three suites that function as both guest accommodation and artists’ residences, allowing visitors to spend the night immersed in the family’s collection of contemporary art and twentieth-century Italian design. Designed by architect Corrado Tagliabue, each suite is individually conceived around the work of a contemporary artist and combines vintage Italian furnishings, bespoke interiors, private terraces and breakfast by Cova with exclusive after-hours access to the gallery.

Casabianca Suites are located at Lungo Lario Trento, 47, 22100 Como, Italy

The Lake Como Edition

Situated on Lake Como’s western shore in Cadenabbia, The Lake Como Edition balances heritage and hip, standing out among the historic landmarks of Italy’s most legendary lakeside destination. The Edition’s creative directors, Kirstin Bailey and Paul Haslhofer, in collaboration with Neri&Hu and architectural partner De.Tales, transformed a 19th-century palazzo into a modern interpretation of Italian glamour, translating the landscape – lush flora, turquoise water, pink sunsets – into a colour palette complemented by marble-faced archways and terrazzo floors. The lobby lounge is punctuated by a celadon green Sekoya marble bar and a custom Neri + Hu bauble chandelier, while the lakefront pool deck, dotted with striped umbrellas, looks ready to splash across postcards. Walnut furnishings and arched windows add character to the 148 rooms. True to the hotel’s forward-thinking ethos, there’s a state-of-the-art longevity spa for high-tech biohacking treatments and cryotherapy. SDLC

The Lake Como Edition is located at Via Regina, 41, 22011 Cadenabbia, Italy

Rome

Casa JK Place Roma

Casa JK Place Roma opened its doors this May with 12 stylishly appointed apartments set in the historic heart of Rome. A few steps in any direction lead to the Pantheon, the Tiber River, Piazza Navona and Piazza di Spagna, making this 18th-century palazzo one of the best-positioned addresses in the city. In addition to the residences, the property includes Al Ventidue, a restaurant serving contemporary interpretations of Italian classics, a private lounge and bar, a Technogym-equipped gym, and access to Biologique Recherche treatments at the neighbouring wellness space.

Casa JK Place Roma is located at Via dei Prefetti, 22, 00186 Rome, Italy

Corinthia Rome

A neoclassical former bank by the prolific Roman architect Marcello Piacentini was transformed by London- and Shanghai-based GA Studio into the new Corinthia Rome hotel. The studio turned back time after an unfortunate 1960s renovation, reconstructing mosaic floors and intricate ceiling details to restore a palatial sense of grandeur to the 60-room luxury hotel. The property also offers several dining options, including the fine-dining restaurant Viride and Ocra, for evening aperitifs and late-night drinks.

Corinthia Rome is located at P.za del Parlamento, 18, 00186 Rome, Italy

Sardinia

W Sardinia – Poltu Quatu

W Sardinia is nestled within the pre-existing architecture designed by Jean-Claude LeSuiss – he originally designed the resort's buildings in the early 2000s. The hotel replicates his signature style of white-washed facades and irregular arches (known as occhio de bue, meaning eye of the bull, a construction nightmare but one that results in a visual delight). Interior-wise, the design was spearheaded by Will Meyer and Gray Davis, founders of their eponymous New York design firm. The duo kept the architecture, flooring and pool completely original, while every interior detail is considered and locally made. There is a lot of artistic expression across the 157 rooms and suites, from the vibrant veining of the stone cabinets to the chunkiness of the makeup vanity coupled with an overlapping mirror which mimics an oceanic ripple effect. If you fancy staying for drinks and dinner, the Tanit restaurant, named after the ancient goddess of abundance, is perched overlooking the harbour where one can gaze at the yachts in transit. TW

W Sardinia - Poltu Quatu is located at SP59, 07021 Poltu Quatu, Italy

Sicily

San Domenico Palace, Taormina, A Four Seasons Hotel

Ever since the television series The White Lotus landed at San Domenico Palace in Taormina in its second season, this jewel of a Sicilian hotel has been a must-visit for southern Italian summer holidays. This season, the hotel is unveiling a bombastic new takeover by Dolce & Gabbana, which will dress the pool with the Sicily-born brand’s iconic prints – a fitting homecoming, considering founders Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana once called the town home.

San Domenico Palace, Taormina, A Four Seasons Hotel is located at Via S. Domenico, 5, 98039 Taormina, Italy

South Tyrol

Hotel Bella Vista

There is a particular kind of silence that you find only at high altitude. It arrives with thin air, settling on snow-muffled valleys and plateaus. The world below feels entirely theoretical. It is this silence that the Milanese architect Matteo Thun has spent years thinking about and which, this May, took physical form in an extension at Hotel Bella Vista – a family-run retreat in Trafoi. Set deep inside the Stelvio National Park at the foot of the 3,905-metre-high Ortler massif, the tallest peak in South Tyrol, the project is, at its heart, a friendship made architectural. Thun and Gustav Thöni – Olympic alpine ski champion and co-owner of the hotel with his family – had spoken about expanding the property for years. The hotel itself dates to 1875, its original 36 rooms enduring through generations precisely because it had never tried to be anything other than what it is: a place shaped by landscape, not the other way around. Thun’s new wing, which adds 24 suites, a lounge bar, and a substantial wellness complex, cleaves close to that polestar. DW

Hotel Bella Vista is located at Via Trafoi, 11, 39029 Trafoi, Italy

Venice

Airelles Palladio, Venice

French hospitality group Airelles has finally debuted in Italy with its brand-new Venetian outpost, Airelles Palladio, Venice. Opened in April 2026, just in time for the Venice Biennale, the 45-room property has taken over the former Bauer Palladio on the island of Giudecca. In typical Airelles style – the brand is known for inhabiting history-laden locations, like its flagship Versailles outpost – the hotel spans three historic buildings and the restored Santa Maria della Presentazione Church, all set within almost one hectare of Mediterranean gardens, with three restaurants, three bars, a traditional cicchetti bar, a 1,700-square-metre Guerlain Spa, a Rossano Ferretti Hair Spa, and four swimming pools.

Airelles Palladio, Venice is located at Fondamenta Zitelle, 33, 30133 Venice, Italy

Danieli, Venezia, A Four Seasons Hotel

Few hotels embody the romance of old-world Italian hospitality quite like Danieli, the Venetian Gothic masterpiece that became a hotel in 1822 after Giuseppe Dal Niel transformed the 15th-century Palazzo Dandolo – originally built as the private residence of Doge Enrico Dandolo and a lodging for princes, cardinals and ambassadors – into one of Europe’s grandest addresses. Now, after years of graceful decline, the landmark property has been given a new lease of life by Four Seasons, whose meticulous restoration by French interior designer Pierre-Yves Rochon culminates this August with one of the year’s most eagerly awaited hotel reopenings.

Danieli, Venezia, A Four Seasons Hotel is located at Riva degli Schiavoni, 4196, 30122 Venice, Italy

Locanda Cipriani

When Giuseppe Cipriani opened his first American-style bar in Venice in 1931, he couldn’t, in his wildest dreams, have fathomed the international acclaim the name would one day hold, with bars, restaurants, and hotels now spanning three continents. With the opening of Locanda Cipriani, the institution is going back to its roots with a new hotel located on the island of Torcello, where the family first opened an inn in 1947. Reopening in June 2026 following a careful restoration, the intimate ten-key retreat preserves the spirit of the historic inn, pairing exposed antique beams, bespoke furnishings and Murano glass lighting with contemporary interiors by Fabrizio Cocchi Studio.

Locanda Cipriani is located at Piazza Santa Fosca, 29, 30142 Venice, Italy

Orient Express Venezia

In the unpolished heart of Cannaregio, a 15th-century palazzo has been transformed by designer Aline Asmar d’Amman into one of Venice’s most spectacular hotels: Orient Express Venezia. Like many of the palazzi in the city, the property has two entrances: one on the street, one on the water. The latter is the only way to do it. As your boat glides through Cannaregio’s canals, medieval façades rise straight from the water, their reflections broken by the steady choreography of gondolas and vaporetti. Asmar d’Amman approached the restoration as a labour of love requiring rare interventions, from drying the palazzo’s foundations and building a dam around the façade walls, to the removal and treatment of each stone on the walls and floors. In the guestrooms, tall windows frame canal views, while antique-inspired furnishings and rich textiles capture the essence of Palazzo Donà Giovannelli at its most romantic. AS

Orient Express Venezia is located at Strada Nova, 2292, 30121 Venice, Italy

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Meet the Telepass, the design that ended the toll booth queue

Carlo Ratti on the Telepass

For decades, Italy’s great summer car exodus was captured by one well-defined image: the queue at the toll booth. Millions of cars on the A1, the A14, the A30 heading south, engines overheating, children crying in the back seat and, up ahead, a funnel of concrete. A frantic hunt for coins, tickets clenched between teeth, unnatural contortions through the diesel fumes of the car in front. The toll booth was a purgatorial rite in the fullest sense. Then, one day, a beep arrived.

We are in a garage belonging to Sixcom, an Olivetti spin-off, in late 1986. Three engineers, 24 and 25 years old, build a flat plastic transponder that an antenna can read while the vehicle is moving. One is versed in hardware, two in software. The prototype starts working within a 120 days. In 1989, in time for the Italia ’90 World Cup, the world’s first nationwide electronic toll-collection system arrives.

Over time, it would become a fully fledged mobility platform. An invention that earned one of Harvard Business School’s celebrated case studies, where it was even compared, in impact, to Netflix. As if innovation were the most interesting part. The most interesting part is the beep.

That confirmatory tone, the one you hear as the barrier lifts, is perhaps the most universally recognised sound of Italian motoring life. More than a horn, more than the rasp of a moped, more than the click of a speed camera. It is the sound of the toll booth disappearing. The Telepass has replaced purgatory with a single syllable. And today the same system has spread well beyond national borders, expanding into other countries.

The object itself is spectacularly ugly. A grey-beige rectangle of anonymous plastic, velcroed to the windscreen. The feeling, though – what the jargon calls UI/UX, user interface and user experience – is revolutionary. Like Nutella, the gadget has become a common noun. Italians do not say the ‘electronic toll-collection device’. They say the ‘Telepass’. When subscription prices doubled in 2024 and competition finally arrived, millions of Italians felt the strange sensation of discovering an object they had been looking through, without seeing it, for 30 years.

And for 30 years, the beep was also a data event. Each transaction records position, time, speed. Multiply all of it by ten million devices and two million daily transits and you have one of the largest real-time mobility-sensing networks in the world. At the Senseable City Lab, we have been studying exactly this kind of infrastructure, which reveals the breath of the city: where it congests, when it speeds up, and when it stops. The Telepass has done so since 1989, even before the expression ‘smart city’ was coined.

Summer has arrived, the exodus looms. Millions of Telepass units are preparing for their 15 seconds of glory: the barrier lifts, the beep confirms, Italy sets off again towards the sea. No halting, no coins, no ticket between the teeth. Purgatory is over. What remains is the beep.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: ‘Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?’ Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: ‘objects should keep us company’. Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Make way for the pedalò, where 'form follows fun'

Carlo Ratti on the pedalò

You hire them by the hour. There are never any discounts, and they look back at you with the swagger of someone who knows you'll struggle to stop once you've had a taste. It is, after all, the most democratic entity on the Italian coast: the pedalò.

It is July, and it shows. The beach hums in the afternoon heat. Children pack sandcastles with hands sticky from ice lollies. Along the shoreline, the fleet of pedalò waits patiently for its next crew.

Despite its humble status today, its lineage is illustrious. Leonardo da Vinci sketched in his notebooks a craft driven by pedal-powered paddles. He, in turn, it seems, had taken his cue from the Badalone, Filippo Brunelleschi’s vessel designed to carry heavy blocks of marble up the Arno for the dome of Florence’s cathedral, Santa Maria del Fiore.

It was such an inventive project that it earned, in 1421, an ‘exclusive privilege’, considered by many the first industrial patent in history. Its fate, however, was less glorious: the Badalone sank on one of its early voyages.

One had to wait, then, until the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries for the modern pedalò to appear. Those were the years when the spread of the bicycle made pedals seem to turn up everywhere: on land and even at sea.

The word pedalò comes from the French pédaler: once again, the French beat the Italians to the marketing. The primacy of invention, though, may still lie in the Peninsula. In 1913, at Gargnano on Lake Garda, the blacksmith Angelo Terzi built the Terziscafo: a five-metre-long larch craft, driven by the pedals of a bicycle. The outbreak of the First World War, however, cut its development short: Terzi was called up by the Alpini battalion, the prototype was left first abandoned and finally sold to a fisherman.

Since then, the engine has stayed practically identical. What has changed, instead, is everything around it: an entire floating menagerie of pedalòs with a slide, a sunshade, cup holders or a sundeck; then swans, unicorns, flamingos, dragons, giant ducks. A catalogue of improbable creatures that, in the summer haze, slide into afternoon hallucinations.

It is exactly the opposite of what Pier Luigi Nervi had imagined. For the great Italian civil engineer, technique would gradually lead design towards ‘true’ forms, ever more optimal. As with racing cars. Or aeroplanes, all much alike because governed by the same laws of aerodynamics.

In other words, he believed in one of the many interpretations of the famous maxim: ‘form follows function.’ The pedalò, by contrast, is its reverse: once the technical issues are resolved, imagination can go back to power.

And perhaps this is the secret of its longevity. For generations, it has accompanied Italian summers without changing function, while constantly changing form. The masks parade by - swan, unicorn, flamingo or duck - but the playful experience stays the same. One could say: ‘form follows fun.’

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: “Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?” Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: “Objects should keep us company.” Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

Every July, as summer reaches its peak in Palermo, Sicily, and the searing daytime temperatures demand near nocturnality, Sicilians take to the streets for the Festino di Santa Rosalia (affectionately called U Fistinu). A celebration of the city's patron saint, who is credited with ending the deadly plague of 1624, the festival is Palermo's grandest annual event. At its heart is a spectacular evening procession through the city's historic centre, led by a towering triumphal float, known as a carro, carrying an effigy of Santa Rosalia.

Earlier this week, the city gathered for the 402nd edition of the centuries-old tradition, which, as locals will tell you, goes well beyond religion. It is something deeply spiritual that taps into a collective memory almost primal in its intensity. 'We all need a little madness,' reflects architect Mario Cucinella, who this year was invited to design the great carro. One of Italy's most celebrated architects, Cucinella admits the commission was daunting, particularly knowing his work would be experienced by the estimated 400,000 people gathering in the city.

Festino di Santa Rosalia chariot by Mario Cucinella

Born in Palermo in 1960 before moving with his family to the province of Piacenza, Cucinella graduated in architecture from the University of Genoa. After working alongside Renzo Piano, he founded MCA – Mario Cucinella Architects, now headquartered in Bologna and Milan. Known for its environmentally responsive architecture, the practice's work spans hospitals, schools, galleries, residential, urban masterplans and exhibition design, but this marks the studio's first venture into designing a ceremonial festival float.

Rather than creating a theatrical stage set, MCA conceived a temporary piece of architecture. 'The carro evokes Palermo, a garden city, much like Monte Pellegrino, where vegetation climbs in terraces, intertwining memory and identity,' explains Cucinella, referring to the mountain that rises above the city.

The structure is loaded with symbolism. A series of stacked timber plinths references the mountain's topography while bright blue bas relief Saladin stars and Norman knot motifs acknowledge Sicily's intertwined Arab-Norman heritage. Integrated into the timber terraces are 40 planters holding more than 150 locally sourced plants – including bay laurel, fan palm, holm oak, mastic, myrtle, wild olive, phillyrea, rosemary and frangipani – transforming the float into a vertical Mediterranean garden.

The choice of plants is particularly resonant. Born around 1130, Rosalia, the daughter of a Norman noble family, is said to have fled an arranged marriage to live as a hermit on Monte Pellegrino, where she died around 1166. Nearly five centuries later, during the plague of 1624, her remains were discovered and carried through Palermo in procession – a moment the city credits with ending the epidemic.

On MCA's carro, the planting rises through the structure before dissolving into a cloud of some 300 illuminated butterflies that spiral around the saint at its summit. Representing transformation, rebirth and collective liberation, they create a luminous halo around the figure of Santa Rosalia. In her hand, she carries a striking blue cross carved by Palermitan artist Filippo Sapienza from the timber of migrant boats that reached Sicily's shores – a poignant reminder that Palermo has long been both a place of arrival and a place of refuge.

The carro formed the centrepiece of a much broader production, art-directed by Luca Pintacuda of Odd Agency, which won the tender for the festival for the third year running alongside partner Coop Culture. Video projections transformed the city's historic façades, while drones, dance, live music and fireworks turned Palermo itself into a stage, tracing a narrative that stretched from the arrival of Arab forces in 827 AD to the city's contemporary identity.

Projects like this, Cucinella says, offer a welcome counterpoint to the years-long process of designing buildings. They allow the studio to engage with the public immediately, rather than waiting years to see their work inhabited. And while the carro is temporary by design, it's expected to be installed somewhere in the city after the Festino, giving the structure a second life beyond the procession.

Palermo's annual Festino di Santa Rosalia, between ritual and spectacle

On the evening of the Festino, that engagement was immediate indeed. As the carro began its slow journey from Palazzo dei Normanni through Palermo's historic centre, Cucinella remained almost hidden within the structure. Visible only in silhouette against its illuminated interior, he looked out over the streets below, where spectators crowd the pavements and spill from balconies overhead.

Guiding the chariot 2.5km through Palermo's historic centre is a huge logistical operation involving scores of security personnel and volunteers. At one point, Santa Rosalia becomes snagged on overhead wires, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd before a technician swiftly climbs a ladder to free her path. There is a unique intensity that elevates the celebration beyond carnival, into something closer to ritual.

At Quattro Canti, Palermo's theatrical Baroque intersection, the procession briefly comes to a halt. The mayor of Palermo, Roberto Lagalla, emerges on the carro's platform, raises his voice – 'Viva Palermo! Viva Santa Rosalia!' The crowd erupts into chant as confetti and streamers rain down overhead.

'I've never experienced anything like it,' Cucinella says afterwards, still absorbing the enormity of the spectacle he helped create. For one night, architecture became theatre, ritual and civic celebration all at once.

mcarchitects.it

After eight years under the leadership of architect Stefano Boeri, the Triennale di Milano today inaugurated a new president. Vincenzo Trione, a professor of art and media history at Milan's IULM University, a columnist for Corriere della Sera and a curator of modern and contemporary art, used his first press conference to lay out his vision for what he described as a 'deeply Italian' next four years.

'We are living in an age in which it is perhaps more important to ask questions than to offer answers,' Trione announced during the presentation of his four-year programme. 'We have sought to create an institution that endeavours to ask questions and regards all our activities as possible and open-ended answers.

'We will begin with a major question – a decisive question of our time. From this question will stem the exhibitions, the public programme and a series of initiatives. Every year, an installation that will serve as a manifesto for that year's Triennale will be placed at the entrance to the Palazzo dell'Arte, becoming, in a sense, our programmatic statement and our artistic manifesto.'

Beyond the exhibitions, Trione outlined a wide-ranging public programme that will accompany each exhibition, comprising lectures by leading thinkers alongside seminars and conferences. The first will be hosted by Franco-Tunisian sociologist Asma Mhalla and will focus on resistance in times of crisis.

Strengthening Triennale’s educational mission

As a longtime academic, Trione also emphasised the institution's educational mission and its relationship with universities and research institutions, including the revival of the Triennale's Centro Studi (Study Centre), originally founded by Giuseppe Pagano and Piero Bottoni in the 1940s. He also announced plans to establish three-year degree and PhD programmes offering advanced training in curatorial studies, architecture, design and fashion.

Alongside the new cultural programme, Trione also unveiled a new Scientific Committee, led by architect and designer Michele De Lucchi, who will also serve as the Triennale's creative director and curator of the Museo del Design Italiano. Joining him are Manuela Lucà-Dazio, formerly managing director of the Venice Biennale and currently executive director of the Pritzker Architecture Foundation, who will oversee architecture; and Andrea Villani, currently curator of the Ministry of Culture's Digital Heritage Gateway Platform and formerly curator of the Museum of Civilizations in Rome, who will lead contemporary art.

Sharing a brief remark during the announcement, De Lucchi hinted at some of the themes his tenure as curator of the Museo del Design Italiano would explore. 'I've always held on to this idea that Italian design is shaped by wonderful entrepreneurs and architects,' he said. 'But the area where we perhaps need to focus more attention is on the artisans, because I must say that in Italy there are still artisans who have disappeared in many other countries around the world. This culture of Italian craftsmanship, this culture of manufacturing, is a truly very special one.'

In his concluding remarks, Trione made a point of noting that although De Lucchi, Villani and Lucà-Dazio each bring extensive international experience, he considers them all 'deeply Italian'.

'I believe that at a time when there has been a blatant preference for foreign figures in the selection of curators and commissioners, this small cultural signal is worth highlighting,' he said. It was an interesting choice of words for Italy's foremost design institution in its most cosmopolitan city, at a time when Milan's growing international profile has increasingly set it apart from the country at large.

While the 2027 programme will be announced this autumn, visitors can look forward to an upcoming retrospective on modernist sculptor Costantino Nivola, which will open in November 2026, as well as a tribute to the American singer and poet Patti Smith, staged in collaboration with Fondation Cartier, also slated for November.

triennale.org

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Fourth up: the Vibram sole, and how it helped the world find its footing

Carlo Ratti's on the Vibram sole

There is a recurring image in mountaineering magazines: a boot resting on a rock, the Alps in the background. The boot is always photographed in profile, never from below. No one turns over the sole. If they did, they would find a small yellow octagon bearing the name Vibram, and discover that they were looking at perhaps the most widespread Italian design object in the world.

We are in Via della Spiga in Milan, now in the heart of Milan’s fashion district, between Prada and Gucci. In the 1930s, however, it was still a street of artisans, where a certain Vitale Bramani ran a shop for alpine equipment. Bramani was a Milanese mountaineer, no engineer or chemist. He sold ropes, ice axes, carabiners. The paradox was already there: Milanese elegance and the brutality of the mountain, contained within the same man.

In 1935, six climbers died of exposure on Punta Rasica, in Val Bregaglia. Their leather soles, soaked with water, turned to ice. Bramani had led the expedition, repeating a route he himself had opened only a few weeks earlier. After that tragedy, he set out for a remedy.

He came across a Pirelli tyre, and saw in it a sole. He later developed his own tread, also drawing on the floors of Milan’s Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, one of the places he knew best. He translated it into vulcanised rubber and patented it. The name is a contraction of VI-tale BRAM-ani. The company remains family-owned, based in Albizzate, in the province of Varese, with a laboratory in Milan’s design district that we helped design.

The name Vibram contains a sophisticated idea: the control of vibration on the ground, a physical relationship with the environment mediated through the sole of the foot. The intelligence lies in the sole itself, visible to anyone who looks from below, yet unnoticed by almost everyone else.

Over the years, its range of uses has widened. With the invention of FiveFingers, that strange glove-shoe that separates the five toes and has since been copied everywhere, Vibram made the opposite move. From hyper-protection to near-nakedness. From the maximal sole to the minimal one. The five extensions of the foot transmit information from the ground in real time, returning the body to a more primitive connection with the terrain.

From tyre to bare skin, by way of vulcanised rubber: a very Italian exercise in sophisticated simplification. A primitive foot became the manifesto of the “paleo” tribe, somewhere between the hippies of the 1960s and the Flintstones.

Few people know that everyone from hipsters converted to the comfort of trekking shoes to the United States Marines is walking on a Milanese invention. Billions of people scamper about on Vibram soles without the faintest idea. It may be the most influential Italian design object in the world that no one sees, because it is always facing downwards. The question it raises is an interesting one: does design matter if no one sees it?

It matters all the same. Every step on a mountain path, every soldier’s march, every trail run is a dialogue between foot and ground. Mediated by the intuition of a Milanese shopkeeper-mountaineer who, in 1935, looked at a wheel and saw the future.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: “Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?” Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: “Objects should keep us company.” Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Third up: the condom, the only piece of industrial design that everyone owns, and no one shows off

Carlo Ratti's 'Objectify' explores the condom

In almost every Italian home, there is at least one: forgotten at the bottom of a bedside drawer, long past its expiration date. It may be the only piece of industrial design that everyone owns, and no one puts on display.

We are in Padua, in the second half of the sixteenth century. One of Europe’s most important centres for anatomical research at the time. It was there that a professor named Gabriele Falloppio – yes, the one after whom the fallopian tubes are named – is conducting what may be the first clinical trial in the history of preventive medicine.

The object: a linen sheath soaked in wine, guaiac and mercury, shaped to cover the glans and tied with a little pink ribbon. The pink, Falloppio notes in his De Morbo Gallico, published posthumously in 1564, was chosen to make it 'more attractive to the ladies.' The volunteers numbered eleven hundred. The result: 'I call upon the immortal God as witness that none of them was infected.'

In its original form, the condom was to the bedroom what the diving suit was to the early underwater explorers: an enclosure that guaranteed no watertight seal whatsoever. Innovation, therefore, began almost immediately. First goat intestine. Then, once a miraculous new material arrived from the colonies, drawn from the rubber tree, came latex.

But back to the object. The modern condom is a masterpiece of minimal design: a cylinder of latex just 0.07 millimetres thick, rolled onto itself and sealed inside an aluminium sachet. No other object is so thin, so functional, and so universally embarrassing to buy.

The sachet itself is an exercise in semiotics: it must communicate safety, discretion and a certain eroticism, all within the footprint of a postage stamp. Falloppio had grasped something fundamental: design must seduce before it protects. The pink ribbon of the sixteenth century and the glossy packaging of 2026 answer to the same logic - the logic of desire.

Of course, some will object today. Between the pill, cycle-tracking apps and PrEP therapies, the condom seems to be losing ground, a relic of a more anxious age. And what consolation is it, they might say, for Italian design to claim a five-century-old invention while elsewhere artificial intelligence is being built?

But perhaps that is not the point. If, in the middle of the sixteenth century, without latex and without germ theory, a man in Padua could imagine an object at once so clinical and so seductive, then we can do it again.

And on this warm midsummer night, as the scent of jasmine drifts through the open window and the zampirone mosquito coil burns slowly in the corner of the living room, let us remember that the most discreet of everyday objects was invented by an Italian. With a little pink ribbon. To make a good impression. To make bella figura.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: “Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?” Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: “Objects should keep us company.” Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. Second up: the tiny Microlino car, a lesson in design, driving and keeping things compact.

Carlo Ratti's 'Objectify' explores the Microlino

In a summer that promises to be scorching, what could be better than opening the door of a refrigerator and clambering inside? Welcome to the Microlino, two and a half metres long, one and a half metres wide, weighing less than five hundred kilos. Two seats, and a front door that opens on to the city as a fridge door opens on to a kitchen.

We are in Turin, at Cecomp, in the same industrial district that once produced the Fiat 500. If the original 500 motorised postwar Italy, the Microlino asks whether Italy still needs to be motorised quite so much, and with this much metal per person. Because today, on our roads, its nemesis reigns supreme, the SUV, two tonnes of sheet metal snarling itself up while searching for a parking space.

Call it the Ozempic of the automobile. A vehicle stripped of everything the twentieth century had prescribed. Reduced to an essential dose, a bubble, two seats, a door, and enough range to cross a city twice. Ozempic works by intervening in the feedback loop between appetite and satiety. The Microlino does something similar with the feedback loops of urban traffic.

Its design lineage is the BMW Isetta, the bubble car of the 1950s, which was itself an Italian invention, licensed to the Germans by Iso of Milan in 1955. The Isetta was famously the car in which postwar couples could sit closer together than in almost any other vehicle on the market. The Microlino continues that line of thought and discovers that the intelligent car might also be the most romantic.

The Microlino was conceived in Switzerland by the Ouboter family, designed in Italy by Icona, and finally assembled in Turin. Its cultural logic, however, is entirely Italian. The Fiat 500 compressed family life into three metres of steel. The Microlino compresses it into two and a half metres of aluminium and a fourteen-kilowatt-hour battery.

At the Senseable City Lab, we conducted a study called Unparking, which showed how the shift to shared autonomous vehicles could reduce the need for parking in cities such as Singapore by more than seventy percent. The Microlino reaches a similar conclusion, but by simpler means. It occupies around a third of a standard parking space. Three Microlinos beam in the space where one SUV sulks. Here, the parking problem is answered by shrinking the car itself.

After all, how much car do you really need to move through Italian cities, designed for human bodies, built before cars existed, and governed by streets once measured in feet and arms? For most journeys, the answer is simple: very little. The Microlino has understood that the city does not need a smaller version of the old automotive fantasy. It needs much less car. With the self-assurance of someone who has just completed a diet, it wants everyone to know.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: “Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?” Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: “Objects should keep us company.” Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

Your latest cartographic assignment from Blue Crow Media is this map of modern Rome, a guide to over 50 examples from among the eternal city’s best-known and most impressive 20th-century architecture.

Mappa di Roma Moderna has been edited by the architect and author Jacopo Costanzo, while Stefano Perego has contributed original photography, showing these buildings in their contemporary state. The folded map is the newest addition to a long-running series of architectural city maps and monographs – see also BCM’s guide to Brutalist Boston and Concrete Montreal amongst many others.

Rome’s contemporary gems are spliced into a cityscape that’s evolved over millennia, with the outer suburbs better represented with contemporary work. One of the cradles of both modernism and rationalism, the city has an impressive collection of contemporary churches and public infrastructure, as well as large-scale housing by the likes of Carlo Aymonino, Mario De Renzi and Studio Passarelli.

Other highlights include Luigi Moretti's Palazzina Girasole, the Palazzetto dello Sport by the famed structural engineer Pier Luigi Nervi, and Sir Basil Spence’s British Embassy. Blue Crow’s maps are a must for the modern architectural tourist, providing insight and context into the major 20th century works that have shaped European cities, whilst also highlighting overlooked gems that are due for a revival.

Milan Fashion Week Men’s unfolded in the midst of a Europe-wide heatwave, with sweltering temperatures being the subject of conversation du jour (and, with thermometers hitting 40 degrees in Paris later this week, this looks to be a topic that will define fashion month). In some ways, it provides an appropriate backdrop for the summer collections: after all, this is the climate for which these clothes were defined. And there was an escapist mood that permeated the collections: Dolce & Gabbana conjured a Sicilian vacation (an all-white linen finale looked particularly apt for the conditions), while Paul Smith’s undone tailoring was inspired by a photograph of his grandfather on holiday, his suit trousers rolled up so he could paddle in the water. Meanwhile, at Ralph Lauren – a label which has become ubiquitous among show attendees this season, particularly the Polo line – mined the moment with a joyful collection that embraced colour and print, filled with clever styling moments.

Elsewhere, there were standout shows from Prada – Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons reworked menswear’s fundamentals, including the denim jean, for a collection that they called ‘an exercise in clarity’ – while at Setchu, Satoshi Kondon, one of menswear’s most intriguing designers, drew inspiration from a recent fishing trip to Gabon. Meanwhile, Thom Browne brought his characteristic wit and whimsy to Milan (he hasn't shown in Italy since 2008), and Giorgio Armani closed out proceedings with a collection that drew on sun-soaked Mediterranean markets and their eclectic wares.

Ralph Lauren

‘Even classic boundaries are there to be pushed,’ proposed the statement for the combined showings of Polo and Ralph Lauren Purple Label collections. As such, the rarified world of country club sports that Ralph Lauren has almost come to symbolise was tempered with something more easy-going and less restricted – there were classic double-breasted blazers, of course, but also lettermans made from top-stitched college flags in vivid primary colours, or lived-in, sun-faded indigo zip-up bombers. Patchworking, one of the great American traditions, was a recurring theme, lending a cosy expressiveness to proceedings. Silk scarves were worn knotted around the throat or draped over the shoulders, but also around the waist, a casual take on a cummerbund. And berets and paint-splattered pants signified something a little rebellious, even beatnik, about the season’s man – perhaps not as squeaky-clean as he may first appear.

On the ground in Milan, Wallpaper’s fashion and beauty director Jack Moss observed that the brand has become the uniform of choice for the style set, describing the preppy look as ‘ubiquitous’ throughout guests’ wardrobes. If American collegiate style is having a moment, Ralph Lauren’s mallet-wielding, horseback polo player is still leading the charge. IBJ

Dolce & Gabbana

The Italian island of Sicily has been a perennial inspiration for Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana, as well as the spiritual home of their eponymous house (the former was born in Polizzi Generosa, a small town outside of Palermo, and memories of this time continue to shape the pair’s collections). Next month, they will show their latest Alta Moda collection in the ancient seaside resort of Taormina – Dolce & Gabbana’s equivalent to haute couture – and this latest men’s collection was something of a precursor. Titled ‘Vacanze Siciliane’ (‘Sicilian Vacation’), the Metropol showspace was backdropped with a film showing Taormina’s Isola Bella through the course of a summer’s day, while prior to the show’s start, models milled about the runway as if wandering to the beach in the morning, or back at night (think: robes, swim briefs, open linen shirts and the like). The rest of the collection mined this easygoing, escapist mood, filled with plenty of Dolce & Gabbana signatures, from broderie anglais shirt-and-short sets, evoking Sicilian table linens, to citrus prints, breezy loose-weave knits, and a multitude of jewellery-like embellishment (a pair of crystal-adorned jeans was a highlight). The show ended with models emerging onto the runway en masse in white linen – a summertime wardrobe that looked particularly appealing in the sweltering Milanese heat. JM

Setchu

As temperatures in Milan soared this week, there can’t have been a single guest in attendance whose mind wasn’t on water, in some way. At Setchu, Satoshi Kuwata’s love for fishing was the starting point for this season’s collection – played out across 17 genderless looks. Oversize nets, worn draped across the body or woven into the garments themselves, were constructed from leather cords tied in sophisticated Japanese square knots, and ‘[paid] tribute to the abundant fishing grounds found in the waters off Gabon’, where Kuwata had journeyed to in the past.

Elsewhere, asymmetry and cavity openings, and the Geta shoes worn throughout, placed the collection firmly back in Japan. One standout garment was a stiff coat with zip fastenings, cut in matting reminiscent of Tatami, and a looser cotton trench revealed construction details such as interior hems and tacking. IBJ

Paul Smith

Paul Smith

Sir Paul Smith will turn 80 in July 2026. As a way of marking this red-letter year, thoughts at his namesake brand have turned to celebrating the man’s personal relationship to tailoring. The story began in childhood, with Smith recalling ‘his grandfather standing knee-deep in the sea, dressed in a full suit and tie with rolled-up trousers’, a laissez-faire attitude to dress that would go on to inform Smith’s decades-long career as one of the suit’s biggest champions, during which time he embraced a softer, lighter interpretation of the classic set.

The effect of these recollections was a gorgeously undone affair: cuffs turned up and sleeves rolled, ties unknotted, shirts unbuttoned. There was a fluidity to the fabric, mouliné seersucker and printed silk habutai, left unlined, and a gentleness to the palette of off-whites, creamy grey, pistachio and butter. Playful knits and pewter-cast charms of sailboats and seashells evoked rose-tinted memories of childhood and a carefree, never-ending summer. IBJ

Prada

Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons called their latest menswear collection ‘an exercise in clarity’, beginning with a handful of foundational garments – jeans, the denim jacket, the blazer, the leather blouson and the T-shirt, each ‘striking in their pragmatism… a framework for ceaseless possibility and reinterpretation.’ In a preview, Simons likened the process of this season to creating a ‘pasta al pomodoro’ – a dish in the canon of Italian greats despite being made from only the simplest of ingredients. ‘Everything looks simple, but it is not,’ said the designers. ‘The ambition was to do something new with “nothing” – against exaggeration, against complex material. Against useless design. There is nothing that [we] hate more in this period than useless foundation. This nothingness is very precise – to do this is far more difficult to achieve.’

In practice, this meant iterations of these garments in new fabrics and proportions: jeans were reconstructed in brightly hued leather, tailoring wool, or a sheer fabric which revealed the garment’s construction beneath, while the season’s super-skinny silhouette (which ran throughout) was described by the pair as ‘highly controlled’. Accessories, bar some half-and-half hybrid sunglasses, largely focused on the waist: supersized belts were hung with colourful leather and nylon pouches, leaving models hands free, while foulard-style scarves were wrapped around the midriff.

Together, it made for a sharp, precise collection from the pair, in their 13th co-designed runway show – Prada distilled to its essence. ‘In this collection, there is a break, with conventions of luxury,’ they continued. ‘This was conscious – [it is] a shift in attitude. Changing materials, reconsidering proportions. The new silhouette is fundamental. There was something compelling about reiteration, about this focus. It is about being extremely decisive and precise.’ JM

READ: Prada’s latest menswear collection strips things back: ‘It’s against useless design’

Thom Browne

A neoclassical Milanese courtyard filled with 400 seersucker plant pots (replete with fabricated flowers) could have, in lesser hands than those of American designer Thom Browne, very easily stolen the show, but, happily, this role was left to his final look: a bride. He wore the brand’s typically slim-cut short suit underneath – in purest white, described as ‘a bright column of light at midday’ – and a train of voluminous tulle cascading from the shoulders on top, finished with a jaunty, veiled boater. A self-assured statement from Browne, who called the collection ‘an evolution of his core identity’.

Elsewhere, there was a distinctly Edwardian feel to proceedings – through a combination of low-V-necked cricket jumpers, straw boater hats, sharp shoulder jackets and deck-chair stripes. Suitably for the long-garden-party atmosphere of the era, embellishments took the form of bumblebees and dragonflies. IBJ

Giorgio Armani

Giorgio Armani chose the courtyard of Palazzo Orsini, the historic headquarters of the house and the former private residence of the late eponymous designer, to host its latest menswear show – a shift from the usual purpose-built showspace in the building’s basement. In the warm early evening (Giorgio Armani-branded facial sprays and fans were distributed to guests in light of the current Europe-wide heatwave), models circulated the historic courtyard, which had been transformed with woven mats and Moroccan-style stools to reflect the collection’s inspirations: a ‘Mediterranean market… an imagined space, bathed in intense sunlight, where light softens surfaces.’ It was a very Armani-esque starting point for a collection – the late designer often channelled a mood of sultry escapism, particularly in his summer outings – figuring here in typically louche tailoring, safari jackets and gilets, and open-weave knits in a palette of earthy desert tones and blues evocative of sea and sky. Alongside the menswear collection, designed by Giorgio Armani’s longtime collaborator Leo Dell’Orco, Silvana Armani – Mr Armani’s niece – presented a Cruise 2027 collection, which followed a similar tact: albeit with flourishes of glamour, like a closing series of looks that were rich in embellishment. JM

Conceived by Italian architect Fabio Fantolino, Lève Office Bar in Turin takes its cues from an unlikely source of inspiration: the workplace. Here, the visual language of the 1960s office interiors is reworked into a sophisticated bar environment that evolves throughout the day.

Fantolino reinterprets the era’s emphasis on materiality and composition through chrome-plated metal, stainless steel, reflective surfaces and bold colour accents. The result is a layered space that favours corporate precision with warmth and conviviality.

Tour Lève Office Bar, Turin

The venue unfolds across three distinct zones. Guests enter through a room anchored by a dramatic stainless-steel counter that culminates in a deep red enamel backdrop. The minimalist structure shifts function as the day progresses, operating as a casual counter by day before transforming into a cocktail station in the evening. A brick-toned herringbone floor introduces a domestic touch against the reflective finishes.

At the double-height central space, references become more prominent, combining green resin flooring, mirrors, chrome and stainless steel with wood and leather details. Upstairs, leather and bouclé seating arrangements subtly echo the open-plan layouts of midcentury American workplaces, framed by red wood and laminate panelling.

Lighting plays a central role throughout. A luminous ceiling grid animates the lower level, while retro-inspired pendant lamps establish rhythm above. Further statement lighting by Lambert & Fils and Santa & Cole completes the scheme.

Open from 7.30am until 1am daily – extending to 1.30am on Fridays and Saturdays – Lève Office Bar serves breakfast through to late-night drinks. The cocktail menu features five signature twists on classics, including a cherry-and-cinchona Boulevardier and a clarified Piña Colada with coconut, pineapple and tonka bean. Alongside bocadillos, oysters, caviar, bao and gourmet focaccia, the venue also serves sushi (nigiri, gunkan and uramaki).

Lève Office Bar is located at Via Stampatori, 21, 10122 Turin, Italy

If you were to sail around Sardinia, it would be easy to glide past Poltu Quatu without a second glance. True to its name meaning ‘hidden port’, the small Sardinian village peeks through the mountains like a hidden oasis. Its topography is reminiscent of Greece, and its flora that of Spain, making the Italian island a cultural conglomerate, offering an environment that is distinctly different, yet familiar.

At the heart of the village is the new W Sardinia by Marriott Bonvoy. The hotel is nestled within the pre-existing architecture designed by Jean-Claude LeSuiss – he originally designed the resort's buildings in the early 2000s. The hotel replicates his signature style of white-washed facades and irregular arches (known as occhio de bue, meaning eye of the bull, a construction nightmare but one that results in a visual delight).

Sardinia became a tourism hotspot in the 1960s, and W Sardinia echoes this. There is a feeling of nostalgia and glamour within its interior, from the poolside bar, to the chunky bridge connecting the hotel suites to the main lobby, it is a surprising reposition for the company, known for having a vibrant party atmosphere, but now embarking on a new, elegant chapter – still with a sprinkling of W’s playful energy.

Wallpaper* checks in at W Sardinia - Poltu Quatu

What’s on your doorstep?

After perusing the small village of Poltu Quatu (home to a few boutique shops and restaurants), book a 15-minute taxi to the neighbouring village of San Pantaleo. Enjoy a gelato at Il Buon Gelato (we recommend the salted pistachio), and explore the bohemian village. Known for its art, head there on a Thursday to see the street market, or check out Sardinian artist Nicola Filia’s art gallery – he designed the W sculpture outside the hotel.

You can also choose to spend an afternoon at Surrau Winery and taste a selection of Sardinian wines against the backdrop of rolling vineyards. The winery itself is full of architectural intrigue, from its wooden ceilings to the large underground tunnel home to various wines.

Who is behind the design?

The design was spearheaded by Will Meyer and Gray Davis, founders of their eponymous New York design firm. The duo kept the architecture, flooring and pool completely original, while every interior detail is considered and locally made, including the large hand-sculpted art feature by Luca Scassellati behind the lobby deck, to ceramic vases by Walter Usai and tapestries by Fabrizio Sanna, to the woven carpet which nods to the crystal seas, a stone's throw away.

‘There’s something kind of mystical about the area,’ says Will Meyer. ‘There is a depth of history, and myth, and there's something kind of magical about it.’ Gray Davis continued to note, ‘I think the narrative is such a key element. We learned about the native Sardinian Nuragic civilisation, and the archaeological treasures found in Sardinia that were created by the civilisation, and that in itself felt very mysterious.’

From the minute you enter the building, the architecture strikes you as unique. As Davis explains, ‘[The architecture] speaks to a lot of the caves and kind of an underwater world. We really leaned into this and enhanced those elements within the main lobby living room area.’

This abstract storytelling was balanced with contemporary functionality. The designers created a space which slowly reveals itself. The lobby feels compressed and cosy, before entering the ‘Wet Deck’ which opens up as if stumbling upon a secret lagoon offering a sense of discovery. Meyer and Davis were also inspired by the mythology of the Janas, fairy-like creatures which resided in caves and ancient sites around the island. In Sardinian folklore they are the protectors of the fisherman on their journeys at sea. This is celebrated with a large mural at the back of the W Lounge restaurant.

The room to book

There is a lot of artistic expression across the 157 rooms and suites. From the vibrant veining of the stone cabinets to the chunkiness of the makeup vanity coupled with an overlapping mirror which mimics an oceanic ripple effect. Each suite feels like a secret grotto. Either book the premier room, which offers a private balcony to enjoy views of the pool below, or indulge in the deluxe suite, a more spacious room with a tub, lounging area, and large makeup vanity. In either room, the layering of materials creates a soothing oasis that encourages you to exhale as soon as you step inside.

Staying for drinks and dinner?

The Tanit restaurant, named after the ancient goddess of abundance, is perched overlooking the harbour where one can gaze at the yachts in transit. Breakfast is a main event here with a dedicated Dolce Room by Italian chef Fabrizio Fiorani offering an array of delectable pastries and cakes (the petite custard-filled fruit tart is divine). Dinner at the restaurant is fresh, local and light, and centred around seafood. We would recommend the freshly caught sea bass accompanied with garlic potatoes and roasted vegetables, followed by a symphony of frozen fruits stuffed with a refreshing sorbet. The cocktail menu stays classic, but fair warning: the drinks are strong.

If you want to venture out of the hotel and into the small village for dinner, we recommend Il Marchese for an authentic Italian experience. A table outside is perfect to watch the sky light up in sunset hues. Enjoy the fried courgette flowers and Matriciana pasta, with 18-month-aged pecorino romano and traditional pork cheek.

Where to switch off

The best place to switch off would be poolside. Don't miss the hidden sauna and steam room. The cave-like architecture makes it a soothing destination which perfectly captures Sardinia’s spirit.

If being active is your way of unwinding, then head to the resort's fitness centre, fully equipped with Technogym. W also suggests experiencing sunrise yoga and power walks around the marina.

The verdict

Stepping away from W’s party roots, the Sardinian location is more like a chic older sister, offering a more sophisticated stay while still uniting W’s signature energy. It's transportative, comfortably straddling the past and the future, and engulfed in timeless, Sardinian beauty.

W Sardinia - Poltu Quatu is located at SP59, 07021 Poltu Quatu OT, Italy. Rates: from £423

In a new Wallpaper* summer series, architect Carlo Ratti explores Italy through the ordinary objects that define daily life. First up: the humble mosquito coil, a lesson in design, climate and the art of living outdoors.

Carlo Ratti's 'Objectify' explores the mosquito coil

Summer has arrived. And with summer come the mosquitoes – buzz, buzz, buzz. From the plains or the marshes, from the seaside or the mountains, they turn up punctually at every outdoor party, like uninvited guests. And with climate change, it is easy to imagine they will keep knocking at our doors with ever-greater insistence.

The Anglo-Saxon approach to the summer mosquito is one of total war: seal the windows, lower the blinds, and turn the house into an artificial lung with air conditioning. In Italy, however, the response is different, more ambiguous and more theatrical. The windows are thrown open, the evening comes in, and the house becomes porous. It is a kind of climatic diplomacy, where the boundary between the living room and the night is constantly negotiated rather than rigidly defended. After experimenting with citronella candles (for the environmentalists) and anointing ourselves with chemical repellents (for those who trust in progress), lo and behold, we fall back on it: the mosquito coil.

Its origins date back to the second half of the nineteenth century in Venice, a place that knows a thing or two about mosquitoes. It was here that a pharmacist, Giovanni Battista Zampironi, began experimenting with powders made from Caucasian chrysanthemum, shaping them into small insect-repellent cones that burned slowly for about forty minutes. It was a start, but it required constant attention: every half hour, no matter how intimate the conversation, you had to light another one.

Then came the geometric breakthrough, imported from Japan. Yuki, the wife of an incense manufacturer, noticed a snake coiled on the ground and realized that by winding the material into a flat spiral, the smoke could last up to seven hours. Her name has largely been forgotten, but her insight is now a global standard, from Tokyo to Lagos, from São Paulo to Milan. In Italy, the object became a household name derived from its creator: the zampirone.

We might say its design is radical and minimalist. Once lit, it begins to work as an environmental filter, but also as a clock: the time of the evening is measured by the amount of spiral left and by that small ember flickering in the dark. The smoke it slowly releases is a thin line that redraws the boundary between humans and mosquitoes, between the living room and a wild night of bites.

We might also say that the zampirone is a typically Italian technology: the technology of compromise. It does not build a barrier, but creates a temporary condition of habitability. It is the opposite of the house promoted by the Modern Movement, born from the hygienist obsession that emerged after the 1918 pandemic and led to a sterilizing ideology: homes sealed against external agents, regulated access, the elimination of disorder. The zampirone, on the other hand, taps into an older tradition of coexisting with nature in all its forms, itchy or otherwise.

And perhaps that is precisely why it still feels so current, and so beloved. Until the fuse reaches its end. And then… boom! A new explosion of mosquitoes.

About 'Objectify' – a summer series from Italy by Carlo Ratti

Italy’s design canon has been told many times. The Bialetti moka pot, the Vespa, the Fiat 500, the Arco floor lamp: you know the list, and so does every airport bookshop and first-year design student. This column will discuss, poke, investigate, prod, ridicule and beatify the less glamorous Italian objects. They are the ones you ought to know, so that when you visit Italy, or spot apparitions of it on a friend’s social media, you can smugly point out: “Did you know the mosquito coil is a masterpiece of Italian design? The condom? The motorway toll transponder?” Objects so ordinary that Italians walk past them, or handle them every day, without registering that someone, with a mellifluous surname, designed them.

Proust wrote a seven-volume novel because a small cake dipped in tea, the madeleine, unlocked an involuntary flood of memory. For followers of the Italian version of this column, published weekly in Il Sole 24 Ore, the nation’s favourite Sunday read, perhaps these objects will have a similar effect. For you, anglophone readers peering at this somewhere between Rummidge and Euforia, they offer something else: beach conversation topics, an eye trained on unexpected places, and perhaps a few new madeleines for when you visit the peninsula yourself. After all, objects are never just objects. As the great Milanese designer Achille Castiglioni of Arco-floor-lamp fame once declared: “Objects should keep us company.” Especially during this scorching summer.

carlorattiassociati.com

The ocean breeze from Tuscany’s Romito Coast cloaks the Castel Sonnino in a mysterious veil. The building’s origins date back to the 16th century when the Medici family built a watchtower to overlook and protect the town of Livorno. After centuries as a military garrison, the castle finally became a residence at the end of the 1800s.

Tour this restored Italian castle

At the time, Baron Sidney Sonnino was looking for a summer home that allowed for secluded intimacy with the sea and its surrounding context. The Italian statesman fell in love with the location and decided the watchtower would be his eponymous home – he now rests here forever, his tomb located in a natural cave overlooking the cliffs.

After Sonnino’s passing, the castle remained closed for years – until now. A recent restoration led by Tono architectural and interior design studio has revived the mysterious coastal property.

The project, which was officially completed in 2025, was spearheaded by the Florence- and Livorno-based studio that wanted to give the windswept walls a new lease of life. His aim? To reimagine the castle through a contemporary lens.

The exterior remains historic. Perched on a hill, the building's façade offers textural details of stone, lime and travertine. However, beneath its regal, period shell, its interior is far from dated. The Italian design studio carefully tiptoed between old and new, restoring the existing Venetian terrazzo and marble flooring, and repairing the bastion, from where guards would once have watched out for enemies.

The sea is visible from every room. Its lapis lazuli shades offer organic inspiration for the internal colour palette, seamlessly blending the interior and exterior. Windows frame the views, while the space is accessorised with carefully selected antiques and custom-made furniture.

The castle’s restoration has reignited its mysterious and whimsical quality, adding energy to its long-overlooked spaces to bring Castel Sonnino into the 21st century.

tono-design.com

There is a particular kind of silence that you find only at high altitude. It arrives with thin air, settling on snow-muffled valleys and plateaus. The world below feels entirely theoretical. It is this silence that the Milanese architect Matteo Thun has spent years thinking about and which, this May, takes physical form in an extension at Hotel Bella Vista – a family-run retreat in Trafoi.

Explore Matteo Thun’s new vision for luxury in South Tyrol

Set deep inside the Stelvio National Park at the foot of the 3,905-metre-high Ortler massif, the tallest peak in South Tyrol, the project is, at its heart, a friendship made architectural. Thun and Gustav Thöni – Olympic alpine ski champion and co-owner of the hotel with his family – have spoken about expanding the property for years. The hotel itself dates to 1875, its original 36 rooms enduring through generations precisely because it has never tried to be anything other than what it is: a place shaped by landscape, not the other way around. Thun’s new wing, which adds 24 suites, a lounge bar, and a substantial wellness complex, cleaves close to that polestar.

‘When Gustav spoke about expanding the hotel, the image of the nest came naturally,’ says Thun. ‘You don't want to interrupt the landscape; you want to frame it, to live within it.’

The nest became the project’s organising principle – not as a literal form, of course, but as a sense of openness tempered by shelter, exposure softened by enclosure. With sensitivity to the spirit of place above all else, Thun conceived a structure that sits lightly on the ground, its exterior clad in regional alpine timber – Swiss pine, fir, oak – giving the building the quality of something grown, rather than built. ‘Wood is not a stylistic choice; it is a cultural and environmental one,’ he says. ‘The structure is clear, the surfaces are honest, the details are precise. In this way, the material loses any sense of pastiche. It becomes contemporary because it is used with discipline.’

Connecting a substantial new volume to a historic structure inside a national park – a process subject to lengthy permitting processes that paused the project for years – demanded equal parts patience and precision. The new reception solves one of the trickier physical problems: it sits between the 1875 building and the new wing as a shared arrival corridor, so that guests move between eras without rupture. ‘The historic house carries memory, time, and identity,’ says Thun. ‘We did not want to imitate it, but to extend its spirit.’

Where Thun’s architecture sets the frame, the interiors by Merano-based Studio Biquadra – led by Christina Biasi-von Berg, who spent five years working in Thun’s studio before founding her own practice in 2005 – are filled with warmth and narrative specificity. In the lounge bar, her palette draws directly from Italian sporting archives, specifically blue, white, and red hues referencing the Valanga Azzurra – the legendary Italian ski team whose greatest champion co-owns the hotel – to create a post-prandial mood that is equal parts gathering place and architectural memoir.

The 24 new suites, meanwhile, are pared back to essentials – large panoramic windows commanding uninterrupted views across the Stelvio and Engadine Dolomites, alongside pared-back interiors that allow the changing light to do the decorating.

In the adults-only spa – 550 square metres of indoor space opening onto 5,000 square metres of outdoor wellness terrain – Biasi-von Berg shifts register entirely. Natural stone, pale tones, and moss-green accents produce deliberate calm to frame the mountain panorama beyond. An infinity pool opens toward the Trafoi Canyon like a suspended terrace, whilst four saunas, an outdoor Jacuzzi, and a hot and cold relaxation zone complete the immersion.

For Thun, the extension, so many years in the making, reflects a definition of luxury that has quietly evolved over a long career. ‘In a place like Trafoi, luxury is not an addition; it is subtraction,’ he says. ‘It is space, silence, and the possibility to reconnect with nature. When architecture allows you to experience a place in its purest form – when time slows down, and the landscape becomes part of your inner space – then it becomes luxury.’

Hotel Bella Vista is located at Via Trafoi, 11, 39029 Trafoi, Italy

Two young men, lads, possibly teenagers, stand in the Adriatic, stacked one atop the other. The blonder of the pair wears a chain and wraps his legs over the shoulders and around the torso of his companion, who is bare chested with a tan and striped swimming shorts. ‘I asked them to start playing where the water was low, but they decided that one would sit on the other’s shoulders. It was not my idea!’ photographer Walter Pfeiffer shares of the double portrait, shot in Rimini in the 1980s. ‘I love when the people I photograph participate in the process. I like being in good company.’

At Pinacoteca Agnelli in Turin, where a major new retrospective, ‘Walter Pfeiffer. In Good Company’, has just opened, the image is blown up to movie-poster size and framed with a white border. Positioned so it’s the first standalone image visitors see upon entering the show, it makes a bold impression and, moreover, is a fitting introduction to Pfeiffer’s six-decade career (in 1984, it covered the October issue of French publication Gai Pied, once described as ‘the queen of Europe’s gay magazines’). The show’s moniker, similarly, is a strong proxy for Pfeiffer’s character. The Swiss photographer’s reputation as an enthusiastic collaborator becomes tangible at the show’s opening in Italy, where friends and admirers swarm him to say congratulations and wish him a happy birthday (he’s just turned 80).

Before you enter the show proper, a vast wall covered with pages pulled and printed from Pfeiffer’s scrapbooks provides additional context for the work that follows. It’s a practice he established in the 1960s while working at Globus department store in Zurich, where he had been hired as a window decorator following his studies at the city’s School of Arts and Crafts. ‘I was bored and had no ideas, then I started to crop images out of magazines and glue them into these notebooks,’ he recalls. ‘I don't like to look through my work, that's why I love this wall – I forgot everything, so it was again interesting for me. When we printed it as a book [2012’s Scrapbooks 1969-1985], we took only the interesting things, but here there is more to discover.’

Occupying six rooms with more than 100 images from the 1970s through to the 2020s, ‘Walter Pfeiffer. In Good Company’ highlights the broad scope of Pfeiffer’s career. In one of the smaller spaces is the series Das Auge, die Gedanken, unentwegt wandernd from 1986, featuring black and white headshots printed in strict record cover-sized squares, the portraits are situated in pairs, high up towards the ceiling. Elsewhere, colour is largely king, used to underscore the subversive vitality prevalent in the collection of still lifes, fashion images and erotic scenes. ‘Walter's very open about letting other people interpret the work,’ offers Nicola Trezzi, who, with co-curator Simon Castets, was primarily responsible for the show’s rhythm. ‘He has done so many books and exhibitions, he’s always creating a company of people that will inspire him and trigger his curiosity.’

One particular group of photographs stands out for its delicate sensibility: the portraits in Untitled (Carlo Joh), shot over several months in 1973, portray a young trans person reconfiguring their appearance through make-up and drag. Embracing Pfeiffer’s ongoing pursuit of beauty but with a faint ephemeral shadow (the teenager passed away not long after their final session), the close-ups appear visibly different from their neighbours, a condition emphasised by the large moat of white space and silver frames in which they’re presented.

‘It’s the heart of the exhibition,’ the photographer and Trezzi agree. ‘I knew I had to do this show [1974’s “Transformer: Aspects of Travesty” at Kunstmuseum Luzern], and I’d seen him before in the library of the art school,’ shares Pfeiffer of spotting his subject, later relaying the decision to leave Untitled (Carlo Joh) out of the book that accompanies the Turin exhibition: ‘The atmosphere of the series is completely different. It would have suffered if it was inserted in this energetic rollercoaster of images.’

Books – self-published since near the start of his career and, later, released with the Zurich publisher Edition Patrick Frey – have long been a vital component of the photographer’s work, and the new monograph, from Mousse Publishing, is a unique example that places text, including an essay by Trezzi, at its centre. ‘It’s the first book where I didn’t have to do anything. I always think about when I'm not here anymore, and it was like I wasn’t here. That's why I'm glad I'm in a state now, where if the company is really good, I don't have to worry,’ notes Pfeiffer, adding further weight to the show’s collaborative label. ‘In the 1970s, nobody wanted to show my work; people were not ready. That’s probably why it still looks so fresh, even after six decades, but I wanted people to see it!’

‘Walter Pfeiffer. In Good Company’ is at Pinacoteca Agnelli, Turin, until 13 September 2026

pinacoteca-agnelli.it

For over a century, the lawns of the Grand Hotel Villa d'Este on Lake Como have hosted some of the rarest classic cars in existence. The hotel’s Concorso d'Eleganza traces its roots back to 1929, when it began as a showcase for coachbuilders – the carrozzerie – on the shores of Lake Como.

At its peak, more than 100 entries – from Pininfarina to Ghia, Touring, Castagna and Stabilimenti Farina – would jostle for attention, as sports cars designed like spaceships and streamlined saloons were paraded on the lawns between Villa d’Este and the green-blue water of Lake Como.

Today, the BMW Group-sponsored Concorso d'Eleganza Villa d'Este is really no different; it celebrates some of the greatest one-offs of the past century while serving as a platform for BMW to rip the covers off its latest concepts and creations. Wallpaper* was there to explore the 2026 edition (15-17 May).

‘The event has been going for over 100 years now, and has always been about these fantastic one-off classic cars that I'm always amazed by,’ says BMW Group's design director Adrian van Hooydonk. ‘For the last ten to 15 years, we've been trying to add to it in the form of concept vehicles. It was quite daunting at first, because you meet the people that collect these cars and know their cars, all of them analogue, all of them hand-built, and then we come in with something fancy and new, but over the years, people have come to appreciate that.’

From 2019, Como gained another car event in the shape of Fuoriconcorso. Set in the steep surroundings of the 17th-century Villa del Grumello, this year’s Fuoriconcorso celebrated German engineering under the banner ‘KraftMeister’. A stark contrast from the oh-so-Italian setting and the themes of past years.

Where the Villa d’Este Concorso trades on coachbuilt elegance, Fuoriconcorso leans more into automotive obscurities, youngtimers and cult classics. Think restomods and 1990s tuner cars, alongside behemoths like the 700-hp, twin-turbo V12 Mercedes-Maybach Exelero from 2005 and the 1970 psychedelic Porsche 917-043 'Hippie Car'.

With world premieres from Brabus, Alpina, Bizzarrini and Kimera Automobili, the two shows are the main pillars of Como Car Week; a series of events that rivals Monterey as the most compelling date on the global concours calendar.

The rebirth of Alpina

‘This year is quite special, because [what we’re showing is] not just a concept car, it is the relaunch of the BMW Alpina brand,’ says van Hooydonk. The weekend’s headline act came fresh from van Hooydonk’s studio, where the BMW design team had been busily developing the first glimpse of what lies in store for the Alpina name, which was brought under BMW control in early 2026.

Called the Vision BMW Alpina, the sleek, 5.2m-long car leads with an exaggerated, forward-leaning shark-nose, referencing the 1978 Alpina E24 B7. Power comes from a non-hybrid V8, and the 20-spoke wheels anchor it to Alpina’s spiritual home of Buchloe.

But the four-seat coupé isn't a production model and likely never will be. The first BMW-made Alpina to make it to market will be a 7-series super saloon, complete with a V8 at its heart. ‘We are not going to flood the market with Alpina products,’ assures van Hooydonk. ‘We’re going to take a careful approach, we’re going to have some patience and start one by one, and then build it slowly.’

With the BMW Group’s latest marque positioned to fill the rather large ‘white space’ between the most expensive BMW and fellow group marque Rolls-Royce, Alpina ‘was and is about quiet luxury’, van Hooydonk tells me on a terrace overlooking the sparkling water. The refined BMWs ‘[were] much faster than the standard product, but not ostentatious’, cars, in which ‘you could go almost undercover’. You can read more about the Vision BMW Alpina here.

BMWAlpina.com, @BMWAlpina.official

The world premieres

With the classics rooting most of the two events in the past, a handful of world premieres this year hinted at what the future holds for highly bespoke, limited-run supercars. Kimera Automobili launched its bonkers V8 Koenigsegg-powered K-39, an Italian hypercar that references both the 1981 Lancia Beta Montecarlo Turbo Group 5 racing car and the Lancia 037 Group B rally car, only this is no restomod. The K-39 is Kimera’s first car built from the ground up, which includes a carbon-fibre monocoque, a V8 engine, a manual gearbox and rear-wheel drive.

At Fuoriconcorso, tuning house Brabus unveiled the Bodo, a long, sweeping million-euro, grand tourer with 1,000hp twin-turbo V12 ‘hyper-GT’ named for late founder Bodo Buschmann. Beneath its all-carbon body lie the reworked bones of a twin-turbo V12 Aston Martin Vanquish, with styling seemingly referencing the Mercedes-Maybach Vision 6 concept car from 2016.

At the other end of the spectrum, Bizzarrini marked the centenary of founder Giotto Bizzarrini's birth with the Centenario Edition: a gloss-black, gold-wheeled special edition of its 5300 GT Corsa Revival. The car will be the last of the ‘reborn’ 5300 GTs, with the company confirming that it will soon launch an all-new model.

The winners

Of the two Como events, Fuoriconcorso is an unjudged, curated show with no official winner, whereas the Concorso d'Eleganza remains the true battleground, where the finest classic cars come to be judged. In 2026, more than 50 cars competed across classes curated by period and coachbuilder.

This year’s top honour was awarded to a 1937 BMW 328 ‘Bügelfalte’ – a one-off racing roadster built at the Munich plant, named for the distinctive metal edging on its front wings. Its owner, Stefano Martinoli of Italy, took home an A Lange & Söhne 1815 Chronograph in 18ct white gold, the crest of the Concorso hand-engraved on the case back.

When it came to the public vote, it was a 1963 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Roadster that won the most hearts. Finished in white with a contrasting black hardtop, the roadster came complete with vintage luggage, skis and snow chains on its rear wheels.

ConcorsodEleganzaVilladEste.com, @ConcorsodEleganza_vde

Set within a post-war residential building, this Milanese apartment was in need of a refresh when Paolo Frello and his team were called upon to orchestrate a complete redesign. The project, set in the north Italian city's Arena neighbourhood, allowed the local architect and his namesake firm to play with surfaces and colour in a way that transformed its interior completely – bringing a joyful tone and spatial diversity to the generous, 160 sq m home.

Step inside this colourful Milanese apartment

The reworked apartment sits within a mid-20th-century building designed by Asnago Vender. Architecture duo Mario Asnago and Claudio Vender played a key role in the city's modernist residential development and helped define the look of its central district's housing stock – the typical, large-scale apartment buildings many of us know and love in the Lombard capital.

In its contemporary iteration of the modernist interior, Paolo Frello & Partners worked with colour 'not as a finish but an architectural device', the architects explain. The original 1950s layout had been changed beyond its primary intention during a previous refurbishment, so the space required a sharp redefinition to amend its flow and address a fragmented internal arrangement.

Blending surface treatments, textures and colours, Frello sought to create a 21st-century interior that caters to the new owner's lifestyle and love for entertaining. References to 1970s nightclub imagery and modernist design abound – yet they are playful and seen in a fresh light. The aim here was for any historical nods to be 'not nostalgic, but interpretative', the architects explain.

Openness underlines the new interior, which feels unified by continuous dark oak herringbone flooring. Architectural elements in the form of curves and block-colour built-in features – from storage to the monolithic stainless steel kitchen – help divide the space and provide much-needed functionality throughout.

Bespoke details further elevate the home. Soft, patterned or colourful upholstery provides background texture or bold accents as needed. The architects conclude: 'The result is an interior where material and colour converge to create a dense and deeply contemporary living experience.'

frello.com

With less than a year to go, speculation on the Venice Architecture Biennale 2027 is ramping up; who will the newly appointed co-curators choose to participate in their main show? And who is poised to win the biennale's coveted awards?

One question was answered today - that of the theme. At a press conference in Venice today, it was announced by Venice biennale president Pietrangelo Buttafuoco and the curators Wang Shu and Lu Wenyu that next year's festival will be centred on: 'Do Architecture: for the possibility of coexistence facing a real reality.'

To expand on this and keep you up to date with news as they come, our biennial, ultimate guide for the world's biggest festival of the built environment is now here, designed to follow rolling coverage, breaking news and, of course, everything you need to know about exhibits, participants and logistics.

At the recent press conference, which revealed the theme for 2027, the two curators emphasised ideas of peace and coexistence in their speech, drawing attention to action and a deep connection with existing environments - both nature and human-made contexts.

They jointly said: 'If somebody asks us what the most beautiful architecture is, we always say the garden, especially the Chinese garden.' This draws on metaphorical uses of the notion of a garden too; they continue to explain, seeing gardens as a symbol of peace. It is about 'an architecture of coexistence. A gentle residence in a violent world. We hope for world peace,' the architects concluded.

Welcome to our Venice Architecture Biennale 2027 ultimate guide

Following architect Carlo Ratti's much-discussed Venice Architecture Biennale 2025 and its theme, 'Intelligens,' and 2024 RIBA Gold Medal winner Lesley Lokko's 2023 Venice Architecture Biennale's influential focus on Africa as 'The Laboratory of the Future', the pressure is on for the next event, which marks the seminal 20th International Architecture Exhibition in Venice. Here is what we know.

The Venice Architecture Biennale 2027 co-curators

In November 2025, the biennale announced Chinese architecture duo Wang Shu and Lu Wenyu, founders of Hangzhou-based Amateur Architecture Studio, as the joint curators of the upcoming 2027 Venice Architecture Biennale. The pair have led their studio collaboratively since 1997, and also teach and are a respected voice within the architecture community.

They are also no strangers to the biennale, having taken part in the main show in 2006, 2010 (when they received the Special Mention for their project 'Decay of a Dome') and 2016.

The prolific architects are behind works such as the Xiangshan Campus of China Academy of Art, the Tiles Hill in Hangzhou, the renovation of Wencun Village, the Lin’An Historic Museum, and the Xi'an Opera House and Concert Hall. Wang Shu won the Pritzker Prize in 2012 and has served as a judge for the Wallpaper* Design Awards 2013.

‘'Conceptual experiments driven to extremes are often divorced from reality, and over-commercialisation tends to [make for] merely popular and short-lived [projects]. [There is a] breaking away from the connection with the real place. It will lead to the death of architecture. Architecture becomes a kind of delusional expression about the future,’ the architects said at their announcement as curators, hinting perhaps at themes they are keen to explore through their show.

The Venice Architecture Biennale 2027 theme: 'Do Architecture'

Much like every biennale iteration, the curated main show revolves around a key theme – from the very first Venice Architecture Biennale in 1980, centred on Paolo Portoghesi's 'The Presence of the Past', to last year's 'Intelligens' which explored the relations, common points and inspiration to be found in the natural and the artificial.

As a response, perhaps, to last year's imaginative speculations and experiments that brought together futuristic technology and themes of science, Wang Shu and Lu Wenyu turn the spotlight this year to doing, action and practice, focusing on not speculative, but hands-on building, bringing notions of natural materials and tactility into the discussion.

Wang Shu said at the theme announcement's press conference: 'The future is full of uncertainty. Overly conceptual experiments are often detached from reality, and in order to survive, we need rapid change. Among the world's crises, the one between nature and human-made construction is the most profound. This does not only refer to untouched nature but also human environments. We must remain highly alert to the power that the technological progress of our times has given to architects.'

Lu Wengyu added, 'Architecture should remain linked to reality. We should not destroy villages and cities that we have inherited. Architecture should not leave this world behind. It is an architecture that should rely on material, not visual power.' She continued: 'For 2027, we decided to confront reality with a series of questions. How can we avoid the vulgar cloning of new buildings? How can architecture acknowledge and practice differences, the authenticity of lived experience?'

'There are different approaches to climate change, and how can they walk next to each other? How can we resolve the conflict between urban and rural through architecture?' pondered Wang Shu.

The main theme will provide conceptual grounding and a common starting point for both the participants to build their submissions around and the national pavilions to riff off on for their own exhibits.

National Participations

Between Giardini della Biennale, where many of the individual countries' national pavilions are, and various locations across Venice's canal city (for those countries not claiming a pavilion in the Giardini), the world comes to showcase its thoughts on architecture during the Venice Architecture Biennale 2027.

Many of the national participations are still to be announced – it's early days for many countries, which are still conducting their internal competitions before they announce the curatorial teams and themes of their respective pavilions. The United Kingdom was among the first to reveal its plans.

The British Council held a competition to determine a UK-Malaysia team to curate next year's pavilion. The move signals the celebration of 70 years of diplomatic relations between the UK and Malaysia. Unveiled earlier this spring, the curatorial team will consist of Grymsdyke Farm's Dr Guan Lee and Mike Lim, director of IDK, alongside a team including Maria McLintock and Ben Swaby Selig. The participation will also include Penang-based artisans Ng Chi Wang, Lee Shao Chin and Koh Eng Keat.

Places, dates and tickets

Opening to the public on 8 May 2027, the Venice Architecture Biennale 2027 will run, as always, for a little over six months, closing on 21 November of the same year. The public opening is typically preceded by two vernissage days – this year, those are expected to be the 6 and 7 May.

Wang Shu and Lu Wenyu's main themed show will take place in two locations - Venice's famed Arsenale and Giardini, the latter occupying the newly reopened Central Pavilion, which underwent extensive restoration for the past year.

Giardini is also the ground for many of the national participations, with countries from around the world presenting their shows and responses to the theme in their respective, dedicated pavilions. Tickets for the main sites are available at the entrance of both sites. Opening hours are 11 am - 7 pm (last admission 6:45 pm), with the venue closed on Mondays.

Do expect a wealth of further events to be spread across Venice. This includes both independent programmes and official programme collateral events, and national participations that may not be accommodated at the Giardini site. There is never enough space for everyone within the two official biennale sites, but what a great problem to have, navigating one's way to the next display or event in the wonderful backdrop of Venice.

The Venice Architecture Biennale 2027 will run 8 May to 21 November 2027 at Venice's Giardini and Arsenale sites.

In a small Milanese suburb, lies a quiet masterpiece of Italian brutalism - the work of architect Francesco Castiglioni. Built as a substantial family home in the 1970s in the Cusano Milanino area, the 650 square metre residence is a generous, sculptural house that wears its concrete structure on its sleeve.

Tour this example of Italian brutalism

The surrounding residential area is given over to large villas around a public park, with Art Nouveau being the favoured architectural style. Castiglioni’s brutalist architecture stood out, then as now, not just for the raw concrete but for the way the four-bedroom house devotes the majority of its floor area to the living areas, including a monumental double-height sitting room.

The exterior follows the more castellated, romantic vision of brutalism, with chimneys and cantilevers replacing ramparts and towers. The integral garage is reached via a driveway that goes through the house, terminating at a curved parking area away from the street.

The living area is the focal point, with a sloping ceiling and dramatic ramp that leads to the upper floors with a galleried landing overlooking the space. A double-sided fireplace divides the space in two, while shifts in level to accommodate the topography of the site creates dynamics views across the living room.

Glazed walls bring the verdant gardens into the living area, while the roof oversails the edges of the house to create a covered walkway and terraces leading down into the 3,800 square metre garden. In the basement, there’s a substantial 20m heated swimming pool as well as utility spaces and storage. In addition to the four modest bedrooms, the villa comes with its own 70 square metre caretaker’s cottage.

Castiglioni was based in Como. His work on the house also extended to some of the furniture and fittings, as well as landscaping the garden. Owned by the same family that commissioned it, the house has recently been refurbished and updated ready for a new generation of architecture-loving ownership.

Villa by Francesco Castiglioni, Cusano Milanino, €3,000,000, Italy-SothebysRealty.com

During festivities in the autumn of 1954 celebrating the reunification of Trieste with Italy, the beautiful three-masted Italian Navy training ship Amerigo Vespucci, designed in the style of a late-18th century ship-of-the-line, was berthed in the city's harbour. Antonio Santin, Bishop of Trieste, was among those admiring the sailing ship, listening to high-flown speeches, watching brass-tinged military parades and, this being Italy, attending Mass.

Explore the Sanctuary of Monte Grisa in Trieste

In the darkest days at the end of the Second World War, when Trieste was occupied by Nazi troops and threatened on one side by the Allies and on the other by Marshall Tito's Yugoslavian partisans, Santin had feared the worst for his city. If, however, he prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary to intercede on Trieste's behalf and the city was spared further death and destruction, he would build a church in her honour.

And here it is: the Sanctuary of Monte Grisa, an astonishing 40m-high, sliced-and-truncated pyramid assembled from a host of concrete triangles, forming a highly stylised ship of sorts, its lofty ‘sails' raised 330m above the shoreline of the Gulf of Trieste on the north-west hem of the city. The view from the balcony deck of this pilgrimage church, built between 1959-1966, is soul-stirring: an azure sea in front, Trieste below to your left, and as you turn, the mountainous ridge and rolling vineyards – Prosecco country – separating this narrow strip of coastal Italy from Slovenia.

The sanctuary's architect, Antonio Guacci, professor at the Faculty of Engineering and Architecture at Trieste University, thought of it this way, too; arranging the high altar as ‘the bridge of command', and the lower church and its chapels as a capacious ‘hold'. Far from whimsical, this ship of souls is realised in the severest and most insistent manner, the tiers of triangles forming the structure both inside and out, above and below. They also provide virtually the only decoration to be found here. But what decoration! Aided and abetted by the imaginative young Roman engineer Sergio Musmeci, Guacci composed a structure that, alert to ever-changing plays of daylight and shadows, is a special work of art of its own.

Inside, the church is resolutely open, and although your eyes are drawn principally to the main altar, its complex play of space and structure encourages them to wander. Shipshape, the sanctuary is thoroughly well built, with fine shuttered concrete walls, convincing detail and gleaming marble floors. Settled here, you soon see that the hundreds of internal-external concrete triangles form star-like hexagons, as well as tracing the letter M, signifying both Mary and ‘Maris', as in the ancient hymn sung in Italian churches, Ave Stella Maris (Hail, Star of the Sea).

The symbolism seems interminable. The honeycomb structure of the upper church can look like a beehive: the Virgin Mary, Santin told Guacci, is like a queen bee. Perhaps. Below, in the streets of Trieste, the church is still referred to, in local dialect, as ‘el formaggin' after the wrapped triangular cheese portions found in schoolchildren's lunch boxes. Ships, beehives, cheese portions, these references somehow help to warm the glacial face and cool geometry of this uncompromising design. It is hard not to liken it to other objects and buildings; from afar, it's reminiscent of the RAF's early warning missile detection and tracking station, an austere truncated pyramid much the same height as the sanctuary and brooding, since 1992, at Fylingdales high on the North Yorkshire Moors.

The bishop, his architect and engineer shaped this enigmatic building at a time when the church, society and architecture were changing in sudden, unexpected and experimental ways. For the Catholic church, this was an opportunity to engage with the modern world and to open up to its congregations who were, following the deliberations of the Second Vatican Council of 1962-1965, to be far more involved than they had been before in church ritual; church architecture would respond with an openness of plans, ‘noble simplicity' and minimal visual distraction. The Sanctuary of Monte Grisa was ahead of the curve.

Although stern, the church is welcoming. Services aside, of which there are many, its terrace becomes a popular spot, on the second Sunday of each October, to watch the Barcolana regatta, featuring as many as 3,000 boats of all classes sailing in the Gulf below. Those perched here in October 2024 would have seen the Amerigo Vespucci returning to Trieste for the 50th anniversary celebrations of the city's reunification with Italy. The following June, the church designated the ship a site of ‘sacred pilgrimages'; another is, of course, this monumental, mathematical, sentinel-like modern Marian church set high in full architectonic sail above the Gulf of Trieste.

montegrisa.org

For city dwellers, silence and solitude are a luxury. That burning desire to escape civilisation is a shared experience, surfacing the moment you step into a sensory-overloading mode of transport. It’s hard not to be lured by the idea of a change of scenery on a daily basis. In recent years, hospitality has leaned into this instinct; we've seen hotels expand their portfolios with sprawling villas and private residences. It’s a winning formula: combining the calm of a private home with the unrivalled allure of five-star service.

We’ve rounded up our favourite retreats, not only for their astonishing design and architecture, but for their generous sense of space, to inspire your next escape. It won’t take much convincing, though.

8 of the best design-led villas to rent this season

Amanoi Ocean Pool Residence (Vietnam)

In a secluded coastal area within Vietnam’s Núi Chúa National Park, a Unesco Biosphere Reserve an hour’s flight north-east of Ho Chi Minh City, Amanoi has been (like its name indicates) a ‘place of peace’ for over a decade. Last year (2025), the Jean-Michel Gathy-designed property began a tony new chapter with the unveiling of its 9,957 sq ft gracious Amanoi Ocean Pool Residence, featuring not only a private beach but also its own spa house. Accommodating up to eight guests, the architectural feat can be configured with two or three contemporary bedrooms, subtly camouflaged amid the lush, rugged surroundings. With a fully stocked minibar, daily champagne afternoon tea and other complimentary experiences such as a private barbecue, a Vietnamese cultural dinner, and a nightly movie screening by the pool with popcorn and ice cream, being a homebody may never feel this good again.

Amanoi is located at Commune, Vĩnh Hy, Vĩnh Hải, Khánh Hòa, Vietnam

Read our full review of Amanoi’s Ocean Pool Residence

.Here

Perched on a long sandbank within the Baa Atoll, a UNESCO-designated biosphere reserve, .Here takes the Maldivian resort in a more private, design-led direction, unfolding as Somewhere and Nowhere, two distinct stays with different intentions. Somewhere comprises seven expansive villas, while the soon-to-open Nowhere is reserved for full private hire with just two residences and its own dedicated facilities. Both sit within the Seaside Collection portfolio and are accessed via its sister property Finolhu, by a short boat transfer along the connecting sandbank. Rather than separating beach and overwater villas, the residences at Somewhere span the width of the sandbank, combining both in a single footprint. Guests can also choose to linger at Safar, the resort’s only restaurant and bar.

.Here is located at Kanufushi, Baa Atoll, 21002, Maldives

Read our full review of .Here

Magugu Suite at Mount Nelson (South Africa)

A couple of months ago, South African fashion designer Thebe Magugu, who founded his eponymous label in 2016, inaugurated a landmark collaboration with Belmond: the unveiling of the Thebe Magugu Suite and next-door Magugu House, a concept store and cultural space for creative exchange. The secluded two-storey suite unfolds as a visually charged Afro-modernist sanctuary, with views across Lion’s Head, the hotel gardens and Palm Avenue. A palette of invigorating greens, deep indigos, warm neutrals and earthy ochres anchors the space. Guests staying here can enjoy the wider amenities and facilities of Cape Town’s legendary ‘Pink Lady,’ from its two pools, tennis courts and a spa housed inside a trio of restored Victorian heritage homes.

Mount Nelson, A Belmond Hotel, is located at 76 Orange St, Gardens, Cape Town, 8001, South Africa

Read our full review of Magugu Suite

Santani (Sri Lanka)

Around an hour’s drive from Sri Lanka’s sacred city of Kandy sits Santani, the country’s leading wellness retreat designed by two-time winner of the Geoffrey Bawa Award for Excellence in Architecture, Thisara Thanapathy. Spanning 48 acres of hilly terrain, Santani’s paradisical grounds are cut through by the Hulu River, where daily swims are encouraged. This hilltop sanctuary recently added two villas to its esteemed lineup: a two-bedroom suite and a three-bedroom residence featuring self-contained kitchens, indoor and outdoor lounge spaces, and individual private infinity pools overlooking far-reaching valleys and pristine forests. Both structures utilise natural ventilation through careful design that eliminates the need for air conditioning. The result? Pure silence.

Santani is located at Arantenna Estate, Werapitiya, 20908, Sri Lanka

Read our full review of the new villas at Santani

Vale Palheiro (Portugal)

The Algarve’s beautifully wild, western corner has been smartening up its act with several new hotels and restaurants. Case in point is Vale Palheiro, an ‘Earth Resort’ designed with character and a real sense of place. The 13-villa property offers suites and casitas, each one different but all with glass-covered log fireplaces and outside spaces. Crowning the ensemble is the duplex Casa Taipa Villa 2, with a shower downstairs within exposed taipa, and a vast micro-cement bath upstairs, where you can wallow watching the shifting colours of the landscape. Guests get a real chance to switch off at Vale Palheiro: There is yoga and massage on request, and a large swimming pool with sun beds around it to while away the time. Its on-site restaurant, offering homespun local delights, is worth lingering in too.

Vale Palheiro Earth Resort is located at Rua Vale Palheiro, 8670-016 Aljezur, Portugal

Read our full review of Vale Palheiro Resort

Villas at Castiglion del Bosco, A Rosewood Hotel (Italy)

Over two decades ago, Massimo Ferragamo, the youngest son of Italian shoe designer Salvatore, and his wife Chiara chose the UNESCO-listed Val d’Orcia Natural Park in Tuscany for their passion project: transforming a 900-year-old country estate into a sensuous resort. Ancient castle ruins, a medieval church, and a borgo painted their perfect picture of a Tuscan paradise. Managed by Rosewood since 2015, the property today comprises 42 suites and 11 freestanding villas, which were restored from abandoned 17th- and 18th-century farmhouses and are dotted across the state. The largest one, Villa Biondi, is surrounded by cypress-lined fairways and includes Italy’s only private golf course. Guests can explore the expansive 5,000-acre property using the in-house Land Rover Defender, which connects various amenities, such as the Brunello di Montalcino winery, two restaurants, a cooking school, a tennis court, vast gardens, a spa, and a set of twin pools.

Castiglion del Bosco, A Rosewood Hotel is located at SP103, 53024 Castiglion del Bosco, Italy

Villas at Mas des Infermières (France)

In 1992, filmmaker Ridley Scott acquired Mas des Infermières, a 35-hectare wine estate in the sun-dappled commune of Oppède. Perched on the edge of a national park, at the foot of the Luberon massif, the estate introduced three rentable design-led villas in 2024. Originally farmhouses, the properties were meticulously restored by Scott alongside lead designers Pia Mclean and Chester Jones, who paid tribute to the region’s creative legacy. Across the residences – the three-bedroom Mas Marcou and Mas Gris, and five-bedroom Chênes Verts – Provençal warmth is conjured through reclaimed terracotta tiles, antique fireplaces salvaged from crumbling castles, and classic swing shutters. Each villa also benefits from its own private pool, outdoor seating and dining areas.

Mas des Infermières is located at 1575 Rte du Four Neuf, 84580 Oppède, France

Read our full review of the villas at Mas des Infermières

Vipp Pavilion (USA)

Danish lifestyle brand Vipp began offering bookable guesthouses around the world over a decade ago, from Denmark and Latvia to Mexico (winner of a Wallpaper* Design Award 2025) and Tasmania. Often located in spectacular remote settings, these retreats are furnished by Vipp and brim with the Scandinavian brand’s signature minimalism. The latest to join the roster is Vipp Pavilion, the group's first US property, located in the Upper Delaware River, a pristine 73-mile ribbon that separates New York state from Pennsylvania. The Johnston Marklee-designed two-bedroom guesthouse may total just 1,200 sq ft, but its clever layout, minimal decor and natural light pouring in through a series of skylights make it feel bright and airy. Naturally, Vipp’s monolithic ‘V3’ kitchen anchors the open-plan living space. There’s no television and no mobile phone reception (though there is WiFi), allowing visitors to completely shut themselves off from the world if they so choose.

Vipp Pavilion is located in Pond Eddy, New York

Read our full review of Vipp Pavilion

What have the Romans ever done for us? Apart from the sanitation, medicine, education and wine, April saw the Eternal City organise its first classic car concours since 1960. Back then, the Jaguar E-Type, James Bond’s iconic Aston Martin DB5 and Lamborghini’s exquisite Miura had yet to even go on sale. Rome was home to the 1960 Summer Olympics and the hub of La Dolce Vita, with a flourishing culture of style and luxury.

Why it took so long to bring a glamourous car show back to the Italian capital is something of a mystery. Matters weren’t helped last year when, with guests arriving and many car entries already in situ, the inaugural Anantara Concorso Roma was postponed out of respect for the passing of Pope Francis.

‘There is a unique atmosphere in Rome and an incredible history of car racing and concours,’ said Anantara hotels chairman, William Heinecke. ‘So, when we set out to establish a new event, the Eternal City was the obvious choice. Although there was massive disappointment over the postponement of the inaugural event, everybody was hugely supportive of the decision we had to make.’

Salon Privé, Pebble Beach, Chantilly Arts & Elegance… If you think there are already too many concours for lovely motor cars with a six-figure price tag, the success of this latest event in Rome would suggest otherwise. Forget a well-polished MGB GT or Triumph Stag, this breathtaking line-up of automotive exotica was a carefully curated list of 70 exclusive classics from some of the world’s most prestigious collections.

And for this first event, all entries across the 16 classes were home-grown, Italian masterpieces from pre-war legends to modern icons. As they were initially displayed outside the curved frontage of Anantara Palazzo Naiadi hotel, Rome traffic quickly ground to a standstill.

A landmark Neoclassical building set on the ruins of the famous Diocletian thermal baths – still visible through the glass floor at basement level – the hotel has long been an important meeting place.

Gathering in the spring sunshine for the concorso were some of Italy’s most revered cars. Among them, a 1938 Alfa Romeo 8C 2900B, a winner at this year’s Peninsula Classics ‘Best of Best’ in Paris, a stand-out line-up of Lancia Aurelia convertibles, plus a more modern Bugatti EB 110 GT (a French marque of course, but this particular model was built in Italy).

With judges including former FIA president and Ferrari CEO Jean Todt, and Pininfarina designer Lorenzo Ramaciotti, the panel of experts assessing the cars was top tier, as was a lengthy sponsor list, featuring brands such as Richard Mille, Gulfstream and RM Sotheby’s.

After some considerable debate in the Italian sunshine, the winning car was a Maserati V4 Sport Zagato, blessed with a 16-cylinder, 4.0-litre engine and first sold in Rome in 1932. Now owned by American collector Lawrence Auriana, the green two-seater was making its first visit to the Italian capital in over 90 years, making it a worthy winner of the inaugural event.

Anantara Concorso Roma, AnantaraConcorsoRoma.com, @AnantaraConcorsoRoma

This is the latest instalment of The Inside Story, Wallpaper’s series spotlighting intriguing, innovative and industry-leading interior design.

If your image of Sicily is one of sunbaked buildings crumbling under the weight of centuries, you wouldn't be wrong – but you would be seriously underestimating the island's architectural range. This Palermo diner, conceived by Didea, offers a corrective: sleek, metallic and futuristic. It is also conceptually distinct from its Sicilian predecessors. Rather than designing a room, Didea wanted to design a system – contemporary, essential and replicable.

The client was a family business with generational roots in the food sector. In their move into hospitality, they chose explicitly to look forward rather than trade on nostalgia.

Look past the spaceship-cool minimalism, and the bones of a classic 1950s American diner are there – refracted, then refracted again through a contemporary lens. That midcentury lineage collides with the graphic confidence of 1970s office interiors. Yet for all its references, the space is never literally nostalgic – that would be too easy.

Stainless steel anchors everything. Shaped into continuous surfaces, linear counters and curved details, it grounds the space in the industrial tradition of the classic diner while remaining clean and controlled. The material works hard beyond aesthetics: it reflects light, organises movement and supports the operational rhythm of service.

Red provides the essential counterpoint, contrasting irresistibly against the silver. It announces itself most boldly in the grid ceiling system – slatted modules forming a regular, articulated pattern that also integrates lighting and technical services – before appearing again at carefully chosen moments throughout the space.

Pale wood panelling offers relief: warm without sentimentality and just enough to temper the industrial palette. The balance between materials is always considered, with nothing competing and everything contributing.

The relationship between the dining room and kitchen was also carefully thought out. Through thresholds, transparencies and visual passages, the work behind the counter is made visible – woven into the spatial narrative rather than concealed from it.

‘The project stems from the idea of creating a system of spaces conceived not only for consumption, but for meeting, staying and recognition,’ says Nicola Andò, architect and creative director of Didea. ‘Spaces able to offer an alternative to traditional fast food, maintaining a balance between speed of service, food quality and architectural identity.’

In a city defined by its past, Didea has made a case for designing the future.

When the world's biggest design fair announced Salone Contract 2027 earlier in 2026, the annual Milanese event, long the foremost staple in the global design calendar, showed that it does not rest on its laurels. Under the presidency of Maria Porro, Salone del Mobile is launching a new project focused on contract furniture and interiors – a take that is intended not only to shake up the industry and 'create concrete opportunities' for growth and sustainability, but also to place the focus firmly back on quality in the design and architecture world. From this year's Raritas (dedicated to collectible design) to next year's Contract, the fair is keen to address all scales in the design world's broad spectrum. The ambition is there – our ears have pricked up.

Salone Contract 2027: the global fair’s newest project

Salone Contract 2027’s announcement was arguably received with a mixture of excitement (the project promises a wealth of new opportunities for the design and manufacturing industry, and it's a new area for the fair to address) and questions (what does 'contract' mean? And how does it apply to designers of all scales?). Pioneering architecture studio OMA was revealed as leader of the project's masterplanning and design. At this week's Salone del Mobile 2026 – where Wallpaper* editors are on the ground and keeping a live blog – the architects offered a glimpse of what's to come during the dedicated Salone Contract Forum at Pavilion 14's Drafting Futures Arena.

'This is a very important step for the evolution of Salone,' Porro said at the event. 'The world of furniture is changing a lot, and this is a big opportunity for design. We thought about creating a Contract pavilion, but we soon realised that our usual rules do not apply here. The name of OMA instantly came to mind [for this journey].'

We attended the forum, so you won't have to – and put together a guide that explains all. Scroll down for more.

Who is designing Contract?

OMA and its research arm, AMO, are perfectly placed to take on the challenge of designing Salone Contract 2027, given their track record of acclaimed, high-profile projects, which range from the EU's visual identity and Barcode flag to the Prada catwalks. Always challenging the status quo and offering new takes on the way forward, the Dutch architecture studio is co-defining, together with Salone president Maria Porro, what Contract work means for the industry and what its physical space might look like.

Led by the practice's Rem Koolhaas and David Gianotten, Salone Contract 2027 promises to break down the complex and often obscure (to the outsider) work and collaborations within contract projects, showcasing how they can provide space for design to grow bigger and better through such a process.

What is Contract?

At the Salone 2026 forum, David Gianotten and Maria Porro brought up several times how misunderstood the idea of 'contract' can be – and how complex its nature is. So, what is Contract? Gianotten explains the notion and practice of creating through contract work as an ecosystem – an entire environment: 'Contract tries to represent how a project is done as a one-stop shop, and its ecosystem, which is not only about producing furniture or interior, but it is really about the total environment. And in the end, it's even about the reuse and the end of the life cycle [of a project]. So it's not about aesthetics.'

Respectively, the space within Salone that will host this section 'is not a fair, or a show', he says. 'It is more like a stock exchange.' It is also about working with different specialists to move away from the product alone (although product design, of course, remains central), to more of a systems-building, something that thinks about broader lifecycles of projects and a space where maximum innovation can flourish.

What contract is not, Gianotten highlights, is 'just hospitality'. Contract design has a different timeline to single product design, and a very global aspect. Architect and MAXXI director Lorenza Baroncelli, who took part in a panel discussion on the theme, explained that contract may be about scaling up, but 'it is not about missing on quality – it is the future of quality'.

Salone Contract 2027’s physical space

'Creating the pavilion [for Salone Contract 2027] is as important as its content,' Porro stressed at the 2026 Contract Forum. She selected her architects carefully and first engaged with OMA seven months ago to co-define what this new area of the fair might look like.

'Contract is a start situation, not an end situation,' Gianotten says. Following that way of thinking, the Contract space is designed to be open, flexible and collaborative, aiming to create the right environment and ecosystem for value and collaboration.

There is a discreet entrance sequence, an entryway which the architects describe as an 'introduction' to the concept of Contract, familiarising the visitors with what they are about to see, before stepping inside the large exhibition hall. A round area at the centre of the structure will act as a 'forum of exchange', a (literal) circle which will be the project's social heart.

From there, case studies radiate, exhibited as little universes, with each display having the end result, the project at its core, and all the companies involved with it around it. The aim is to show how Contract is all about relationships and collaboration, contributions big and small. Movable elements will be used so that formats can adapt and change project by project and year on year as required.

Who can exhibit there?

OMA's Contract section aims to display how a contract brief is about creating an environment – 'not buying single objects and putting them together', Gianotten explains, 'but designing the whole environment at once'. The exhibitors will be fittingly diverse and covering all aspects of a bigger project – from design and architecture, to furniture design, but also larger manufacturing, smaller independent contributions and anything in-between.

'[Here, we are] not so much interested in the product by itself, but they're really interested in the whole system of the project,' he adds. 'It's not about the sales moment, but it is really about this long-term engagement for all the actors present, even the client, the designer, the producer, but also the operators.'

The naval industry is ahead of the game in this section, Gianotten flags. 'Already, 95 per cent of the boats are done under contracts. It is a sector that has already moved completely into that realm.'

Contract throughout history – key examples

A tightly packed lecture by Rem Koolhaas offered valuable context to the idea of contract work and an analysis of OMA's thinking for the project, going through some of the historical examples the team researched in order to develop their response to their brief for Contract. Koolhaas visited case studies of global work where a similar approach was adopted, and they range a lot, in typology, result and geographical location.

In Roman times, buildings were commissioned in a collective way, Gianotten explains. '[The contract approach was already embedded] in this mindset, where people would deliver everything from the local environment to the use of that building and even the after-use.' Examples cited vary from the way ancient Romans worked in commissioning as a sort of Gesamtkunstwerk, to the fascinating design story of the Rockefeller Centre in New York, as presented by Koolhaas.

The latter was run by John Rockefeller himself in a 'very rigid manner' that enabled the project not only to survive and complete, but also allowed a 'density of thinking and collaboration' with the important physical beginning of this contract: [It was to be] accommodated and housed in a single environment and [for the different actors] to be together for five years, day in day out, as a single team'.

The striking Lagos International Trade Fair Complex in Nigeria, designed based on hexagonal floorplans, was another key example of contract work with impressive historical intel and delivery results. Meanwhile, Koolhaas also used an ongoing OMA project in Miami, a private home, to showcase the complex nature of creating architecture and interiors, and how current affairs and global challenges, such as war, climate change and political decisions, affect manufacturing and supply chains – which in turn play a key role in a designer's decision-making.

What's next?

While the full scale of what's to come has not been revealed, there are enough hints to offer a taste of next year's Contract space and the opportunities it might offer to exhibitors and visitors. What sits at the heart of Salone's creatively disruptive approach also resonates with Koolhaas and his team. At the Contract Forum, the architect spoke about taking risks – and seeing risk-taking not as a detractor but a rich and even necessary condition to moving the needle in building and the construction industry, a traditionally slow-moving and arguably risk-averse field.

'I am not comfortable with being comfortable,' Koolhaas says. 'We shouldn’t be avoiding risk; by avoiding risk, we avoid creativity.' Gianotten added: 'Risk-taking is important to innovation. Innovation means taking risks.'

It is the right attitude to instigate change – and the hope is that Salone Contract 2027 will provide the platform for just that.

Check our guide to what to see at Salone del Mobile and Milan Design Week 2026 and follow our editors’ live blog for latest news.

Salone del Mobile 2027 will take place from 13-18 April, Fiera Milano, Rho

Milan-based architect Hannes Peer defies the notion that versatility comes at the expense of mastery. Hailing from the South Tyrol region, he studied architecture at the Politecnico in Milan and the Technical University of Berlin before working for Rem Koolhaas in Rotterdam, Zvi Hecker in Berlin, and several studios in Milan, where he established his eponymous studio in 2009. It’s a place, as he points out, that rewards curiosity.

‘What I appreciate most is the intellectual environment. You constantly run into designers, architects, editors, artists and gallerists. There is a real sense of exchange and dialogue. It constantly feeds my work as both an architect and designer,’ says Peer. ‘There is a sense of discipline in how people move through Milan, yet, at the same time, you see a fascinating coexistence between established elegance and a vibrant youth culture that brings spontaneity and experimentation. It’s a surprisingly small city that produces an immense amount of creativity.’

From large-scale hospitality, retail and museum projects to intimate residential projects, Peer’s portfolio spans architecture and design in their many forms. His practice also extends into products and furniture, having authored pieces for Minotti and Baxter while producing collectable works for galleries such as Nilufar in Milan and Blend in Rome. His style is defined by vibrant, immersive layouts articulated through careful material modulation – polished wood and marble sit alongside textured ceramics and metals, all shaped by abundant natural light.

For the official launch of our Milan Travel Guide, we tapped the polymath to share his take on the Italian design capital, asking him to spotlight the haunts that remind him why he loves it so much.

Hannes Peer’s Milan

The Hannes Peer studio sits in the authentically Milanese neighbourhood of Porta Romana. Its name may derive from the neighbouring 16th-century gate, yet the area has emerged as a hub of contemporary architecture and design. Here you’ll find the OMA-designed Fondazione Prada cultural centre and the Piazza Olivetti public square.

Moments from the studio is the family-run Trattoria Masuelli San Marco, which Peer suggests everyone treat as their second dining room. ‘There is a very authentic Milanese atmosphere that is becoming rare in the city,’ says Peer. ‘It is, in my opinion, one of the best restaurants in Milan. I usually order very classic dishes, such as the costoletta alla Milanese.’

Heading north to Via Plinio brings you to the unmissable Bar Basso and its perfectly stirred negroni sbagliato. ‘The waiters are old-school Milanese, slightly grumpy at first glance, but with a hidden smile that appears once they recognise you. That mix of character and irony is something I adore about Milan,’ says Peer. Craving something sweet? The original Marchesi 1824 is always a safe bet: ‘It’s the oldest pasticceria in Milan and the only one I truly like.’

From here, two destinations lie in almost opposite directions. Head for Torre Velasca, which Peer calls one of the true symbols of the city: ‘It represents the golden era of Italian architecture and design after the war. I have always loved its brutalist character and the slightly rebellious attitude it brings to the skyline.’ Or visit Piero Portaluppi’s Villa Necchi Campiglio, one of the best preserved art deco villas in Italy: ‘Walking through it feels like entering another era.’

‘As with any city, Milan is not always polished. It can be chaotic and dirty and, at times, you feel it could love itself a bit more, but that is also part of its character,’ says Peer. ‘It reveals itself slowly, not trying to impress you at first glance. Even on the days when it drives you crazy, you realise you’d probably miss it the moment you leave.’

According to Hannes...

What is the best month to visit Milan? September. It's when the Milanese go back to work, and Milan becomes Milan again.

What should one wear to blend in? Casual and effortless. If you try too hard to stand out, locals will think it's a bit tacky.

Who is someone in the city you admire? Miuccia Prada.

What is the best way to make friends? Go out in NoLo, a good place to misbehave.

I can't leave Milan without… a heartache.

For more recommendations, buy our Milan Travel Guide.

Founded in 1951, Le Sirenuse has long been a hideout for glamorous vacationers who have enjoyed its first-class service, private terraces overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and the simple pleasures Positano offers. It’s also long been a family affair. What started as a private summer home-turned-eight-room-hotel is now a 58-key property that sweetly mirrors the unique labour of love that each generation of the Sersale family has curated; its appreciation for the arts also endures.

As part of the Artists at Le Sirenuse program, which has been curated by London-based art adviser Silka Rittson Thomas since its launch in 2015, contemporary artists are invited to create works that converse with the hotel’s history and landscape. In 2024, Swiss figurative artist Nicolas Party reimagined the swimming pool via joyful tiling. Previous commissions have featured international artists such as Martin Creed, Stanley Whitney, Rita Ackermann, Alex Israel, Matt Connors and Caragh Thuring, among others.

Le Sirenuse Mare Beach Club Nerano

Commemorating Le Sirenuse’s 75th anniversary, the property begins its next chapter away from its original Positano location, although not too far from it. A 25-minute boat journey via Le Sirenuse’s own shuttle service to Marina di Cantone – a fishing hamlet and beach resort attached to the hillside village of Nerano – is the newly unveiled Le Sirenuse Mare. Beach Club. Five years in the making, the 2,500 sq m feat heralds a 180-cover restaurant, three bars and an Emporio Sirenuse store. In true Amalfi fashion, the site drapes itself across a series of wide terraces that ascend from a pebble beach with two jetties, one for boat access and the other dedicated to sea bathing.

Antonio Serale, co-owner of Le Sirenuse, describes this next chapter as a passion project, highlighting how the property has always liked to take the long view: ‘Three-quarters of a century after my family turned their seaside home in Positano into a small hotel, a project we’ve pursued for decades is finally coming to fruition. And we couldn’t be prouder: Le Sirenuse Mare distils the dolce vita spirit, the pursuit of quality and the love of beauty of its parent property in a spectacular beachfront setting.’

Architetti Artigiani Anonimi, a Milan-based design studio founded by architect and interior designer Annarita Aversa, led the layout, structure and design of the beach club, prioritising materials rooted in the vernacular traditions of the Amalfi Coast, such as handmade terracotta, ceramic floor tiles, and undulating cannucciata sunshades. Meanwhile, the luscious landscape design, the vision of Italian architect Paolo Pejrone, features whimsical art installations throughout, from a striped Totem figure by ceramicist Lucio Liguori to artist Alba Clemente’s lively illustrations and a clay cube sculpture by Bosco Sodi.

There’s plenty of room to sunbathe at Le Sirenuse Mare, which sports 36 sunbed pairs shaded by 18 beach umbrellas on its lower level. By the midterrace, guests will find five cabanas made of varnished steel and covered with weatherproof linen fabrics by Emporio Sirenuse, hand-embroidered in India. Meanwhile, on the upper terrace of the seafront area is an al fresco lounge and a kiosk named Rose’s Bar in honour of British artist Rose Wylie, whose monumental painted bronze sculpture Pineapple stands nearby.

For those feeling peckish, a quick few steps ascending through landscaped grounds will quickly take them to the beach club’s food and beverage area. At the 180-cover Le Sirenuse Mare Restaurant, spread under traditional pergolas in chestnut wood, chef Francesco De Simone plates seasonal lunches on exquisite ceramics inspired by Greek Geometric pottery, designed by Emporio Sirenuse’s creative director Viola Parrocchetti and made and fired by hand in the Amalfi Coast ceramics town of Vietri sul Mare.

At the highest level, guests will find Giuseppe Ducrot’s monumental fountain dominating the central 40-seat lounge area shared by the gelato parlour, Dolce Far Niente and the cocktail bar, Mare.

Le Sirenuse Mare Nerano will open daily to the public from 23 April 2026.

In 2015, the photographer Joel Meyerowitz found himself in the preserved studio of the Italian painter Giorgio Morandi (1890-1964). Casa Morandi at 36 Via Fondazza in Bologna – a museum that was formed from the artist’s studio and residence after his death – retains the physical legacy of a lifetime of close looking, and is filled with the objects that were the subject matter of Morandi’s celebrated still-life works.

The result of Meyerowitz’s visit was a celebrated and now sought-after book, Morandi’s Objects, first published in 2016 by Damiani. Now, the photographer has revisited his imagery from that trip, creating a new, expanded edition of the book that delves deeper into his relationship with the artist and his lasting influence.

Meyerowitz is not the only visual artist to find solace in Morandi’s totemic imagery – Bridget Niedermair published Horizon in 2016, and countless architects cite the solemn stillness of his compositions as inspiration. Morandi's paintings can be seen in the background of Fellini’s La Dolce Vita.

In 2023, Amanda Renshaw curated an exhibition of Morandi’s Objects at Venice’s Palazzo Franchetti. On the occasion of the new publication, Wallpaper* discussed the updated book and the work of the Italian artist with Meyerowitz.

Wallpaper*: Before you started this project, did you consider Morandi an influence on your work?

Joel Meyerowitz: No, Morandi was not a direct influence on my work because I wasn't really a still-life photographer; I was a street photographer. I loved Morandi for his work and for the mystery and spatial joys of looking at this work. I really felt like I had learned a lot from seeing the way he used simple things to make really profound statements, but he wasn’t a direct influence on the work I had done before going to his studio.

W*: What drew you to this project? For art historians, these mostly pragmatic objects are almost sacred – how did it reflect your choice of framing and backdrop?

JM: I had a commission to do a book on Provence. While in Provence, I went to visit Cézanne’s studio in Aix-En-Provence. While in Cézanne’s studio, I noticed he had painted the walls of his studio a dark grey, and on a table against the grey wall, he had painted his still lifes, which were mostly fruit. You’ve seen his apples and oranges; sometimes there were skulls, and sometimes there were some sculptural objects, and occasionally there were bottles in his still lifes.

I was interested in why he used grey. In our contemporary artistic culture, artist studios are generally white boxes. So I began to think about the grey background, and how it made things stand out for themselves, without the contrast of the white wall with the given object.

So when I went back to the place I was living, in Bonnieux, Provence, I set up, as a test for myself, a grey background, and I started putting objects on it to see if I could come up with a really good answer as to why Cezanne did that. I became so interested in moving objects around on a grey background that I felt like I was opening myself – for the first time – to still lifes.

Then, at some point, I returned to Tuscany, where I was living, and I thought, ‘I’m going to go to Bologna and visit Morandi’s studio’; I heard you could go in and see where he worked. So, I went to Bologna, looked at Morandi’s work surface, and saw it was totally different from Cézanne’s, and Cézanne was an influence on Morandi.

My point is, I became interested in objects on backgrounds, because I had never done still lifes. Suddenly, I found myself asking a question. What is a still life, to me? That led me to make more of my own still lifes, and at some point, I thought I would go to Morandi’s house, to that studio, and ask the curators if I could photograph all of his objects and do it on his work table, so that I could show the world what it was Morandi was working with, and how he transformed them.

It was a really simple way of honouring Morandi’s huge effort, over all those years. I promised myself not to assemble objects to create ‘faux Morandis’; I just wanted to show the interested public what those objects looked like, so they could see for themselves how he played with them.

W*: The presentation and framing of the objects is – inevitably – very painterly. Your work has covered a huge variety of subjects, events and places, often capturing dynamic moments. How does photographing static objects compare to this diversity, especially in terms of lighting and framing?

JM: In this case, to honour a single object meant that when I put it on Morandi’s table, the game I played was turning each object slowly and carefully, so as to not remove any of the dust on the object. I carefully turned the object around, so I could see all of its faces, to see if there was one face that spoke to me more than any other position as I turned it.

And it was true! There were objects that, as I turned them, suddenly had character, as if they stood up strong and tall. It might have been from a dent in it, scratches on it, or some angle of it that gave it a presence.

I was looking for presence. Did these objects have their own character, and the question that I asked after that was, did Morandi do that himself, when he was playing with these figures that he was putting on his work surface? Did he turn them around the same way, to see if they offered him a new presence, new energy, a new point of view?

I think I was simply trying to honour each individual object. I never moved the camera; the camera stayed in the same position for the 300 objects I photographed there. That way, they would always be the same size, as Morandi saw them, and the same size for the public to look at them.

What I learned from Morandi’s assembling of objects was that for many years, when I was working on the street, and still true to today, when I raise my camera, its usually because there’s a cluster of people on the street, presenting some kind of field of force, some kind of energy, and some interaction between a group of three or four people who are walking together, and perhaps a couple, off to the right or left of this cluster.

I feel an energy in the space of the street, the light of the street. I tried to translate that into the still lifes that I was making for myself. I was using street energy, or ‘street assembly’, as my thematic undertone to give my arrangement of forms some kind of new feeling, or something that I recognised from the unpredictable outside world I worked in. So, in that regard, I can understand the joys that Morandi gained by playing with his objects over and over again for all his years.

Morandi's Objects. The Complete Archive of Casa Morandi, Joel Meyerowitz, texts by Joel Meyerowitz, Maggie Barrett and Amanda Renshaw, Damiani, €55, DamianiBooks.com, JoelMeyerowitz.com, MuseiBologna.it

The key image of the 1980 Architecture Biennale was Aldo Rossi’s Teatro del Mondo – a tower floating across the Venetian lagoon, a kind of strange dream, half-familiar, half-fantasy. Much like the city itself, it summons an impossible architecture shimmering on the water; floating, fleeting, unforgettable.

The subtitle of the Biennale (the important global architecture festival's very first iteration) was ‘The Presence of the Past’, and you might use that phrase to encapsulate the work of the Italian architect Aldo Rossi (1931-97). He created an architecture redolent of history, rich with memory and association, and yet one which was never imitative or pastiche. He refined design into a series of motifs or archetypes that were almost universal markers of the European Renaissance city, which were so abstracted that they evoked rather than reproduced.

Architecture in Aldo Rossi's words

‘One can say that the city itself is the collective memory of its people,’ he wrote in his 1966 book The Architecture of the City – 'and like memory, it is associated with objects and places. The city is the locus of the collective memory. This relationship between the locus and the citizenry then becomes the city’s predominant image, both of architecture and of landscape and as certain artefacts become part of its memory, new ones emerge.’

Aldo Rossi's postmodernism

‘The Architecture of the City’ became a key text of postmodernism that would reach its zenith at the 1980 Venice Biennale, yet Rossi was little concerned with many of the themes of classicism, historicism and style with which PoMo became indelibly associated. Rossi was a Marxist who believed that the city is formed by political and social forces and that modernism had by then been co-opted by capital to destroy the traditional city as a place of memory and strip it of any meaning beyond finance.

This desire to reintroduce meaning, to re-enchant the city and to use architecture to acknowledge the deep collective memory of urban elements (almost as if the metropolis were a stage set) led to an extraordinary oeuvre which defies easy definition. His early Gallaratese social housing project in his native Milan (1969-72) might look like a conventional functionalist block, but look closer and it appears abstracted, attenuated, as if Giorgio de Chirico had designed public housing, with its dark arcades and striking shadows, its stagey flatness and the historical proportions of its otherwise plain elevations.

San Cataldo Cemetery

One of Rossi’s most haunting and enduring works was the San Cataldo Cemetery in Modena (from 1971). With an eerily empty punctured red cube at its centre and a representation of the cemetery as a literal city of the dead, this was an attempt to revive modernist architecture through meaning and memory.

His drawings from the project, which encompassed plan, perspective, elevation, representation and abstraction, are among the most influential renderings of the 20th century. It famously evokes the work of philosophers and architects such as Michel Foucault, Étienne-Louis Boullée, and Jeremy Bentham – classicism, modernism and rationalism – in a quite magical combination.

From product to architecture

From there, Rossi went global, building everywhere from Los Angeles (Disney HQ) to Fukuoka via Manhattan. Arguably, his most popular work was not a building at all but his designs for coffee pots for Alessi. Approached by the Italian manufacturer as it was shifting from kitchenware to high design, Rossi produced the Tea and Coffee Piazza and the Conica and Cupola stovetop espresso makers. The moka pots, those quintessential components of Italian domestic culture, are reinterpreted as elements in a classical city, stage props in an idea of ideal urban archetypes. His work for furniture manufacturer Molteni & C was equally imaginative, including the 'Piroscafo’ bookcase with its bold, blocky outline (created with Luca Meda as co-designer). Then those same motifs reappeared in architecture. His Bonnefanten Museum in Maastricht (1995) features a similar cupola to the coffee maker, for instance.

Rossi’s posthumous store for publisher Scholastic in New York’s SoHo (2001, designed with Morris Adjmi) is a masterpiece of urban infill. A tall, narrow loft building, it builds on the neighbourhood’s traditions of iron-framed architecture but borrows its stripped columns from rationalist architect Giuseppe Terragni and its red-painted steel beams from Manhattan engineering. The frontage is classical-inflected, the rear is industrial, looking as if it's made of old stacked cranes. There are few better buildings of the era in the city. Scholastic was an evolution of the language employed at the Il Palazzo Hotel in Fukuoka (1987), a piece of Italian classical hyper-urbanism amid the low-rise of the Japanese waterfront.

Aldo Rossi's legacy

There were dozens of other buildings, from his remarkable restoration of the Teatro Carlo Fenice in Genoa to his extensive work in Berlin via his distinctive stage sets. There is also one of the first contemporary memorials, the striking, Platonic-solid monument to Santo Pertini in Milan and the unfinished Piazza Nova in Perugia.

His vivid, scribbled sketches, skilfully coloured and almost cartoonishly archetypal, also influenced a generation of architects, just as critical as his buildings. He would sometimes mix his designs up, gathering them into a cluster on the page like a dense urban island of Rossi dreams, just as he did with his coffee piazza.

Rossi died suddenly in a car crash en route to his weekend home at Lago Maggiore, aged only 66. He left behind a legacy still being pored over, an oeuvre which forms a kind of collective memory of the city in itself.

Aldo Rossi's key projects

Gallaratese Quarter

Where: Milan, Italy
When: 1969-72

When architect Carlo Aymonino started working on the designs for an affordable housing complex commissioned by the City of Milan in 1967, he commissioned Aldo Rossi to design one of the five buildings in the Monte Amiata housing complex, located in the Gallaratese neighbourhood in northwest Milan.

San Cataldo Cemetery

Where: Modena, Italy
When: 1971

Rossi's San Cataldo Aldo Rossi Metropolitan Cemetery came to complete a site with buildings originally created by architect Cesare Costa between 1858 and 1876.

Tea and Coffee Piazza for Alessi

When: 1983

Italian company Alessi invited eleven architects to design a silver coffee and tea service in 1979. The results included Aldo Rossi's set which imagines the items as buildings in a miniature city.

Il Palazzo Hotel

Where: Fukuoka, Japan
When: 1989

When it first opened, Rossi’s Hotel Il Palazzo symbolised a new epoch in Japan, merging Eastern and Western design values, even being referred to as Japan’s first boutique hotel.

Parigi armchair

When: 1991

Designed by Rossi for UniFor in 1989 and released two years later, the Parigi armchair is now an icon of postmodernist product design.

Piroscafo bookcase for Molteni & C

When: 1991

The ‘Piroscafo’ bookcase (from £3,315) by Aldo Rossi and Luca Meda, was recently reissued in a warm spice colour by Molteni & C

Bonnefanten Museum

Where: Maastricht, The Netherlands
When: 1995

The Bonnefanten Museum in Maastricht, Netherlands is an important institution for fine and contemporary art in the province of Limburg. Design by Aldo Rossi, the building features a landmark cupola, and now forms an important Maastricht landmark.

Scholastic HQ

Where: New York, USA
When: 2001

The Scholastic Corporation's headquarters in New York was designed as a collaboration between Aldo Rossi and Morris Adjimi, and completed posthumously.

Venice's famed Central Pavilion, one of the key landmarks within the Giardini della Biennale, which hosts several of the Venice Biennale events every year, is about to reopen, following an extensive restoration. The building, a beloved destination during the world's seminal art and architecture festivals that alternate on site every other year, was in need of a refresh back when works began in December 2024. Now, the revamped structure is about to throw open its doors again, just in time for the unveiling of the 2026 Venice Art Biennale.

Tour the thoroughly refreshed Central Pavilion at Venice's Giardini

The sensitive 16-month-long process, which cost Italy's Ministry of Culture a €31 million investment as part of the country's PNC-PNRR, ‘Great Cultural Heritage Attractors’ programme, aimed at both protecting the building and enhancing the biennale's infrastructure and future potential.

The original structure, named Palazzo Pro Arte when it was first created between 1894 and 1895, was the product of the transformation and repurposing of existing buildings on site, including the Cavallerizza, designed by Tommaso Meduna, and the Palazzo dei Concerti (inaugurated at the 1887 exhibition). The Central Pavilion was developed by Venice's city engineer Enrico Trevisanato and features a façade design by the painter Marius De Maria.

The project was overseen by the biennale's Special Projects department (headed by architect Arianna Laurenzi with engineer Cristiano Frizzele). The team worked with a range of specialist professionals to complete the works to the desired high quality, among them BuroMilan - Milan Ingegneria (lead firm), Labics and architect Fabio Fumagalli for the architectural design; ia2 Studio Associato for MEP systems engineering and fire prevention; and geologist Francesco Aucone. Site supervision was entrusted to engineer Massimiliano Milan.

The Central Pavilion's restoration included a series of interventions which will bring spatial clarity and enhance functionality in the interior. Sala Chini becomes the building's main distribution core. From here, a series of clean, white and flexible exhibition areas fan out, ready to be used as needed by curators during the annual shows. Special attention was paid to details, such as the pavilion's window fixtures, which were designed by Carlo Scarpa – they have now been refurbished and reinstalled.

More key restoration points include the project's goal to obtain the LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) Gold certification sustainable architecture standard; a clever integration of technical and architectural systems throughout; the creation of additional space for the café and multipurpose use in the shape of two new outdoor structures, inspired by Venetian roof terraces, called altane; and the aim to maintain the continiuty of the spirit of the building and its original intention, without compromising 21st-century needs in both use and building performance.

The restored Central Pavilion's debut will involve hosting an exhibition titled ‘In Minor Keys’, curated by Koyo Kouoh. The show and building will open to the public on 9 May, following the 2026 Venice Art Biennale vernissage, and will remain open till 22 November 2026.

Eligo Studio has a special relationship with Liguria. From the Milanese design practice’s very beginnings, its founders, Alberto Nespoli and Domenico Rocca, have been in love with the cultural heritage of this fascinating coastal region of Italy. And it’s here that their newest project, Casa Arosio, a modernist treasure originally designed by Italian master Vico Magistretti, is located.

The duo were not the first to turn their attention to Liguria, which stretches along the coastline around Genoa. The area has attracted the Milanese since the 1950s, when architects such as Gio Ponti, Luigi Caccia Dominioni and Gianfranco Frattini discovered the richness of the local landscape and artisan skills. ‘This project started when our friend, the owner of concept store Via Garibaldi in Genoa, informed us that Casa Arosio was for sale. When we saw it, we immediately asked one of our clients if she would like to buy it. And she agreed,’ explains Nespoli.

Tour the refreshed Casa Arosio in Liguria, Italy

Eligo Studio is currently working on a further ten projects in Liguria. Some of them are located in the same district as Casa Arosio, Pineta di Arenzano. ‘We’ve been working in this resort area for ten years,’ says Nespoli.‘It is a unique gated holiday community envisioned by architects such as Magistretti, Ponti, Zanuso, Gardella and Dominioni, who designed several houses there. It was a utopian project born from the desire of Milan’s cultural elite of the time to create a retreat of their own. We are very grateful to be contributing to this architectural legacy. My generation is now rediscovering the houses our ancestors built. Some of them have been vacant for many years, so there is work on them that must be done.’

This was also the case with Casa Arosio, a holiday home designed by Magistretti for the engineer Paolo Arosio, a good friend and collaborator. Built between 1956-1959, the house is a manifesto of modernist Mediterranean culture. It is a synthesis of progressive architectural thinking mixed with local culture and lifestyle. Its crisp, geometric form echoes traditional Mediterranean houses, which typically featured the clean white walls admired by many modernists, from Le Corbusier to Gio Ponti. This vernacular architecture influenced Casa Arosio’s stacked, rectangular volumes, nodding to the area’s typical seaside structures. For these qualities, Casa Arosio exemplifies how postwar Italian architects started to move away from the strict rationalist architecture of the first half of the century, in favour of historical continuity and a more contextual approach.

For the project, Magistretti collaborated with landscape architect Elena Balsari Berrone to craft various pathways and connections within the sloping terrain through a series of rooftop gardens. The intricate plan brings together indoors and outdoors, while the exterior walls were treated with a special surface material that incorporates small pieces of crushed glass to better reflect the light.

The equally complex interiors are based on a playful split-level scheme with many curved features, integrating different levels for compact and cosy holiday living. Magistretti applied Adolf Loos’ famous Raumplan approach to the design (which involves planning a spatial composition around three-dimensional volumes rather than traditional horizontal floor plans). Arosio and his family regularly enjoyed the house until the 1970s, when Pineta started becoming busier and more commercial. After that, together with friends, they moved their holiday life to Sardinia, where Magistretti designed two more houses for them, and Casa Arosio changed hands.

‘When we first got inside the house, it was clear that it had not been lived in for many years. It was also in bad shape structurally,’ says Nespoli. ‘We had to rebuild almost everything, but we did it with huge respect to the original genius loci. We had to include new insulation and update the heating system, which was very innovative for its time.’ They also added a lift, and tweaked the layout. ‘We kept the main areas and ingredients, but we had to change the rooms originally dedicated to staff, for instance – these became part of the main living space,’ adds Nespoli.

Eligo Studio worked closely with Fondazione Vico Magistretti, which provided Casa Arosio’s original plans and details, and helped the designers understand Magistretti’s thinking and personality. ‘Everything in the project has a connection to Magistretti. For example, we used Mutina tiles by Konstantin Grcic, who was one of his students at the Royal College of Art in London,’ says Nespoli. ‘At the end of the 1950s, Magistretti was more into architecture and artisanal design than industrial design.

His philosophy was very pragmatic. He designed spaces, but his work was also about how the owner inhabited them. It has a lot in common with our approach.’ With Casa Arosio, Eligo Studio not only transformed a 1950s home to its new owners’ 21st-century requirements; they also safeguarded Magistretti’s original intention, and through this, saved a valuable piece of Italian modernist history.

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A framed A3 piece shows a green snail hugging a person and the text reads ‘Slow down + chill the hell out, you’re doing great!’ The work is by Orfeo Tagiuri, who explains; ‘I like the idea that the characters in my work are not defined, even from a gender perspective. Ideally, they are universal so that people can identify with them.’

London-based Tagiuri was born in America to a psychiatrist mother and an architect father. The 34-year-old has lived and studied in both London and the United States, graduating from London’s Slade School of Fine Art. He has also studied creative writing, which may explain his way with words. ‘I work with a lot of bad puns,’ he confesses when explaining a cartoon with a carrot and a stick.

Tagiuri experiments with multiple mediums, and this movement between disciplines is conscious. ‘The mistake I’ve made in the past is perhaps trying to put myself in a box,’ he explains. An exhibition of his wood carvings, Thoughts to Fall Asleep To, was shown at the Sapling Gallery in London in 2021, and other work was presented at the Cooke Latham Gallery as part of a group exhibition in 2024. He recently had one of his illustrations published in The New York Times, and publishes a newspaper called The River. Tagiuri models, too, appearing in special campaigns for Burberry and Dunhill.

When inspiration strikes, the artist is quick to give it form. He has drawn a cartoon heart hugging its full belly, with the words Full Heart written below it on the gallery door. Tagiuri is also methodical, with many drawings arising when he works in an almost meditative state. ‘For my drawings I allot a period of time where I'll take my notebook and divide the pages into grids. I’ll say, okay, I’m going to sit here until I do so and so.’ Tagiuri often draws in a café for a couple of hours, emerging with pages of sketches, and he also works from his west London studio. ‘There’s something about the unique ambience and buoyancy in a café space that works for me,’ he explains. By contrast, his studio is where he takes things slowly and works on specific objects. ‘It’s where I can deposit a lot of half-formed ideas and return to them with a new perspective, and then they reconfigure,’ he says.

At first glance Tagiuri’s work appears to be playful, but on closer inspection themes of pain emerge, alongside a sense of hope. This is seen in a piece where a nail is being hammered into a hand, it bleeds and then a flower grows out of the wound. ‘After the process of creating these pieces I do emerge quite joyful,’ he says. ‘But I’d say that I actively try to practise that feeling of joy and gratitude, as perhaps others might journal.'

Tagiuri’s works will be on display at Mutty in Brescia, a new site that expands on Giulia Giazzoli and Francesco Saviola’s project that began in Castiglione delle Stiviere in Mantova. The couple discovered Orfeo’s work when they came across his book Little Passing Thoughts, published by Chose Commun. They have previously collaborated with artists such as Ruth van Beek, Johanna Tagada Hoffbeck and Katsumi Komagata. ‘We were really excited when we spoke to Orfeo about working together as this is something new; most of his work that has been shown has been the wood carvings,’ Giazzoli explains. The showcase offers a glimpse into a section of Tagiuri’s creative thinking, while marking an ambitious new chapter for Mutty as it expands its programme and reach.

Orfeo Tagiuri 'Doing Nothing' until April 4th 2026 at Mutty Gallery, Brescia, Italy

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