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Are you a fashion student and are suddenly feeling drained of inspirations? Well, do not seek complexity nor look for extraordinary themes. Some of the most striking visual languages arise indeed from simplicity and in particular from repetitive patterns in vibrant colors. This principle is central, for example, to the work of Claude Viallat, as proved by his works "160/1986" and "161/1986", two monumental pieces that exemplify his radical approach to painting.

A founding member of the Supports/Surfaces movement, which emerged in the late 1960s and early 1970s in the south of France, Viallat played a crucial role in redefining the very nature of painting. The movement sought to deconstruct traditional artistic conventions, shifting the focus from representation to the physicality of materials. The stretcher, canvas, and pigment, elements typically meant to disappear behind an image, became indeed the subject. Artists like Viallat, abandoned the conventional stretched canvas in favor of unframed, draped, or suspended fabrics that in Viallat's case extended outside the parameters of traditional paintings, emphasizing the material's presence in space.

Viallat's commitment to repetition and chance rejects traditional composition, instead allowing the surface to dictate the rhythm of the work. His method, often involving ink dyeing and industrial paints, minimizes the artist's hand, reinforcing Supports/Surfaces' pursuit of neutrality and material autonomy.

In "160/1986" and "161/1986", Viallat pushes this exploration further by liberating the surface from rigid supports, allowing vast, supple expanses of fabric to become independent entities. Using his signature stenciled motif, he repeats the same biomorphic shape across the canvas in bold acrylic colors. This technique, favoring flat tints and the absence of nuance, eliminates depth and perspective, reinforcing the idea that painting is not a window onto another world, but a physical object in its own right.

These works embody Viallat's radical dismantling of traditional pictorial hierarchies, where the act of painting is no longer bound by illusionistic depth but unfolds as an exploration of surface, structure, and color itself, a rhythmic interplay of form, materiality, and chromatic intensity. Executed in 1986, these two large-scale works are part of the Marcel Lehmann-Lefranc Collection and are currently included in Sotheby's "Contemporary Discoveries" auction (20th February, Paris). 

As the third anniversary of the Russo-Ukrainian war draws near, the impact of Russia's invasion of Ukraine, which began on February 24, 2022, continues to reverberate. Amidst the ongoing conflict, US President Donald Trump just announced that he has discussed potential ceasefire negotiations with Vladimir Putin during a phone call. At the same time, US Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth suggested that Ukraine may need to relinquish territory and abandon its NATO aspirations to reach a peace agreement. This announcement raised alarm in Kyiv and among European allies, with many wondering whether the Trump administration would be willing to concede to Putin's demands (without involving Ukraine in the talks) to expedite a deal.

In the wake of Russia's invasion in February 2022, several fashion houses initially voiced their support for Ukraine. Balenciaga's Demna Gvasalia, for example, presented a runway show that mirrored the grit and resilience of those caught in conflict, set against a symbolic snowstorm. Over time, though, such tributes have largely faded from the runways, with one notable exception: the collections of Ukrainian designer Svitlana Bevza.

The war doesn't emerge in Bevza's collection, but there are tributes to her country. For the S/S 2025 season, Bevza's presentation at the Ukrainian Institute of America served as a poignant reminder of her homeland's resilience.

Drawing inspiration from a line in the Ukrainian national anthem – "Our enemies will die, as the dew does in the sunshine" – Bevza incorporated crystal droplets into her designs. These droplets were featured on several pieces, including tent dresses. Another emblem of Ukraine's enduring spirit was the ear of wheat, a symbol of its fertile land.

The wheat ear represents the country's agricultural heritage, especially its vast and fertile wheat fields, which have earned Ukraine the nickname "the breadbasket of Europe."

During times of hardship, such as in the Holodomor, the man-made famine of 1932-33 that affected the major grain-producing areas of the country, killing from 7 to 10 million people, the wheat ear also became a symbol of the struggle for survival and the painful loss of life.

Originally used as jewelry, Bevza turned it into hardware for bags, used it as the main detail on belts and tie-bars or as the decorative motif for a bustier, turning it in this way into a symbol of national pride, strength, and the ongoing fight for independence.

For her A/W 2025 collection, presented during the recent New York Fashion Week, Bevza's expanded on these themes, with the wheat ear appearing on pendants.

Ukraine as "the breadbasket of Europe" was evoked in the braided textures of corset tops, cummerbunds and dresses with long fringes. The braids were references to the traditional braided loaves, while the plaided texture of a shearling coat called to mind grain, and apron dresses also referenced Ukrainian heritage.

With her collections Bevza is also making strides in sustainability, with 80% of her materials now sourced from deadstock fabrics, and vintage mink coats repurposed into knitted fur jackets. Yet, despite growing recognition in the U.S. and U.K., Bevza continues to face logistical challenges in shipping from Kyiv. Dividing her time between her children in London, her husband serving in the Ukrainian army, and her business in Kyiv, her mission remains clear: to pay a cultural tribute to her homeland and translate its spirit, strength, and resilience into the language of fashion.

On another note of resistance, Porcelain War by Anya Stasenko and Slava Leontyev is currently nominated in the Best Documentary category at the Oscars. Stasenko and Leontyev are not directors, but ceramics artists from the frontline Ukrainian city of Kharkiv.

They remained in Ukraine when Russian troops invaded their country and Leontyev, who had received his military training in 2014 after Russia invaded Crimea, served as a weapons instructor in the Ukrainian special forces. Eventually, he picked up a camera and shot Porcelain War. In the documentary, Leontyev compares porcelain to Ukraine: "Easy to break, impossible to destroy." For the two artists the Academy Awards nomination represents every Ukrainian, who, as Leontyev states in the film are "ordinary people in an extraordinary situation", adding "In Ukraine, it's a war of professional assailants against defenders who are amateurs."

Chainmail, the defining feature of knights' armor and protective workwear (think about butchers’ aprons and fishmongers and oyster shuckers’ gloves…) has been continuously reimagined by fashion designers across decades.

Some of the most iconic interpretations include Paco Rabanne's futuristic dresses and Gianni Versace's shimmering oroton. More recently, Florence Pugh appeared in the film "Dune: Part Two" (2024) in the role of Princess Irulan, a warrior princess à la Joan of Arc, clad in a striking chainmail ensemble. Her costume, evocative of a nun's habit, also echoed elements from Julien Dossena's A/W 2020-21 collection for Paco Rabanne (View this photo).

Yet, the concept of chainmail is evolving in unexpected ways, not just in fashion, but through scientific breakthroughs. Recent experiments in the laboratory of Chiara Daraio, G. Bradford Jones Professor of Mechanical Engineering and Applied Physics at the California Institute of Technology (Caltech) in Pasadena and Heritage Medical Research Institute Investigator, have led to the discovery of an entirely new class of architected materials.

Published in the magazine Science (in January 2025) under the title "3D PolyCatenated Architected Materials," the research focuses on innovative materials. PolyCatenated Architected Materials (PAMs) are indeed structures that defy conventional classification. Unlike traditional materials, PAMs display a dual mechanical response: they flow like a fluid under shear forces yet behave as a solid under compression. This emergent property positions PAMs in a novel category, distinct from both granular and crystalline matter.

What have they got in common with chainmail? Well, they are inspired by the interlocking rings of chainmail. However, while chainmail relies on simple interconnections, PAMs incorporate a more complex three-dimensional arrangement of interwoven elements, characterized by an unimaginably variable configurational freedom.

The scientists experimenting with PAMs computationally modelled them and then fabricated them with diverse substrates, including acrylic polymers, nylon, and metallic alloys, using 3D printing technologies.

As highlighted above, the hierarchical architecture of PAMs enables them to undergo dynamic mechanical transitions. Under compressive loading, they exhibit structural rigidity similar to crystalline solids, while under shear deformation, their interlinked components freely rearrange resulting in near-frictionless flow similar to the behavior of non-Newtonian fluids. This dual nature was rigorously analyzed through rheology tests, where cube- and sphere-shaped PAM samples were subjected to controlled compression, shear, and torsional forces.

Scientists have highlighted the diversity of PAMs, explaining that they can be fabricated from both soft and rigid materials. They point out that the shape of individual particles and the lattice structure connecting them can be tailored, with each adjustment influencing the material's properties. Regardless of these variations, though, all PAMs share a defining characteristic: a transition between fluid-like and solid-like behavior, which occurs under different conditions and remains a consistent feature across all configurations.

Blurring the boundary between solid and fluid phases, PAMs therefore possess both an interconnected, ordered structure and an exceptional capacity for large-scale configurational rearrangement. Their unique ability to dissipate energy makes them highly promising for impact-resistant applications, including protective gear, advanced cushioning systems, and next-generation morphing architectures. Unlike conventional foams, PAMs can slide, rotate, and reorganize at the molecular level, enhancing their ability to absorb mechanical energy, a quality ideal for innovations in helmet design, aerospace engineering, and adaptive packaging solutions.

Beyond their mechanical adaptability, preliminary microscale investigations suggest that PAMs exhibit electromechanical responsiveness, expanding or contracting in reaction to applied electrical fields. This discovery unlocks possibilities for biomedical engineering, including soft robotics and adaptive implants.

While PAMs remain in the research phase, their lightweight strength and shape-shifting potential hold exciting promise in prosthetics and assistive technologies, particularly for individuals with neurodegenerative conditions such as Alzheimer's. Their adaptive mechanical properties, lightweight structure, and energy-absorbing capabilities could indeed offer more comfortable, pressure-responsive adaptive prosthetic liners or dynamic joint components in prosthetic parts such as knees that could benefit from PAMs' ability to shift between fluid-like movement under stress and structural stability when needed. Who knows, PAMs could also be ideal for custom-fitting orthopaedic aids and stimuli-responsive sensory aids Integrated into smart textiles, as PAMs could respond to touch or pressure, potentially aiding in tactile stimulation therapy to enhance cognitive engagement.

Beyond medical applications, PAMs may present fascinating opportunities in fashion and wearable design (besides, if further studies confirm their ability to expand or contract in response to environmental conditions, they could even revolutionize accessories, think scarves, gloves, or headwear that self-adjust for warmth and breathability…).

Their unique interplay of flexibility and rigidity makes them an ideal candidate for adaptive insoles and midsoles, offering responsive cushioning and impact resistance to enhance comfort for both athletes and everyday wearers. Biometric-responsive wristbands could harness PAMs' ability to react to electrical stimuli, enabling accessories that tighten or loosen based on biometric feedback, such as heart rate or body temperature. Shock-absorbing elements in bags could provide both impact resistance and aesthetic appeal, while modular, shape-shifting jewellery might introduce an entirely new approach to personal adornment. Imagine pieces that morph in response to movement, shifting form and structure based on style preferences or functional needs, perhaps even offering medical benefits, such as reducing strain on joints.

Collaboration between engineers, neuroscientists, and healthcare professionals is always crucial in developing new materials, but as research on PAMs progresses, it would be exciting to see fashion designers brought into the conversation. Their expertise in form, movement, and wearability could indeed open new possibilities for integrating these adaptable materials into both functional and aesthetic applications. In the meantime, the pursuit of hybrid materials – those that exist between states, like, in this case, granular and elastic deformable materials – continues to push the boundaries of what is possible.

In yesterday's post, we explored Francesco Guardi's works, focusing on his capricci, imaginative compositions where reality and fantasy converge to form idealized architectural visions. These paintings and drawings combined together existing buildings, evocative ruins, and fictional structures, bathed in dramatic light to create idealized scenes.

This technique of blending disparate elements into a new landscape echoes the modus operandi of Artificial Intelligence.

Consider how text-to-image models generate fantastical architectures by recombining fragments from various sources they have been trained on, melding influences from different styles, periods, and locations into an entirely new composition. Like Guardi's capricci, these AI-generated creations remix reality, assembling structures that never truly existed but feel compellingly plausible.

In digital and generative art, algorithms act therefore as modern-day capriccio painters, iteratively reconfiguring architectural fragments into endless variations of surreal cityscapes.

A user's input prompts the AI to orchestrate a fresh vision, an ancient Roman ruin reimagined within a cyberpunk metropolis, a Gothic cathedral adrift in the sky, or, much like Guardi's Venice, a city on the water that exists nowhere but in the image itself.

Experiments with Midjourney, using textual prompts inspired by Guardi's Capriccio with Ruins and Classical Ruins (View this photo) and Architectural Capriccio: A Palace Colonnade (View this photo), without directly feeding the images into the AI, produce grand yet subtly uncanny compositions.

The results suggest a Venice of dream and distortion: conglomerates of houses adrift on the water, domes improbably perched atop bridges and slender columns too delicate to bear the weight of the buildings they support. The light in the images produced by Artificial Intelligence is eerie, evoking Guardi's Rialto Bridge after the Design by Palladio, but with a gossamer, otherworldly quality.

Yet it is precisely in experimenting with Artificial Intelligence, prompting it to generate capricci, pushing it toward new iterations, and coaxing it to refine its visions, that one realizes how closely this process mirrors that of the artists themselves. Many historical capricci were, at their core, acts of iteration, painters returning to the same motifs, rearranging familiar architectural elements in ever-new compositions – a ruined archway might appear in different landscapes, a colonnade reconfigured with subtle variations, each piece both a repetition and a reinvention.

Thus, capriccio and iteration converge in their shared ability to recombine the known into the unexpected. Iteration provides structure, a framework of continuity, while capriccio injects playfulness, allowing for creative distortions that make each variation feel fresh, even surreal.

In the previous post, we highlighted how the capriccio approach is already embedded in contemporary fashion  (think about Renaissance sleeves reinterpreted in a modern silhouette or 18th century corsets reimagined through a punk aesthetic…). But iteration, too, plays a defining role.

Sometimes, reinvention does not require borrowing from past eras; instead, it emerges from within, by revisiting an archive and reshuffling its codes. Fashion thrives on this process of reiteration and recontextualization (consider Alessandro Michele remixing Valentino's legacy designs for his sophomore Haute Couture collection at the Italian house). Iteration turns therefore not into mere repetition but into a means of weaving past and present into something entirely new.

For example, for their latest Haute Couture Spring/Summer 2025 collection, Viktor & Rolf transformed their own archive into a dataset, generating a myriad of variations on a single outfit – a beige trench, a white shirt, and blue trousers – all crafted in silk gazar from Ruffo Coli, a storied family-run textile house in the Como silk district. This fabric served as the trait d'union, a common thread weaving through the collection's many iterations.

During the show that took place at the end of January in Paris, an AI-like robotic voice repeated: "Beige trench in silk gazar, white shirt in silk gazar, blue trousers in silk gazar."

Each time the results were different, though at the same time containing elements from previous collections: the main fabric employed referenced Viktor & Rolf's Haute Couture Spring/Summer 1999 Blacklight collection, originally made from the final rolls of silk gazar developed by Cristóbal Balenciaga in the 1960s with the now-defunct Swiss textile producer Abraham.

Yet beyond this direct material reference, the silhouettes recalled a rich lineage of past collections: the inflatable silhouettes of their Autumn/Winter 1998 collection; the sculptural collars of the Autumn/Winter 2003 designs, the exaggerated bows of their Spring/Summer 2005 collection, and the dolls of their 2008 Barbican exhibition.

Each new look was an iteration: shirts transformed into voluminous capes, trousers widened into sweeping palazzo cuts or shrunk into slim silhouettes, trenches morphed into opera-length coats covered in bows or turned into tiered gowns.

Through this exercise in repetition and reinvention, while the description (or prompt…) remained the same, just like the fabric, the results, based on the house codes, were always different, like shifting capricci, altered by mathematical variables – volumes, proportions, textile manipulations, presenting fashion as an iterative process, where creativity emerges from the tension between repetition and transformation, a juxtaposition that Viktor & Rolf have been exploring extensively in recent collections, drawing heavily from their own past designs. Each new iteration becomes a deliberate exercise in self-referencing, a controlled capriccio where past and present collide.

In the end, the question remains: is the human approach to capriccio and iteration superior, or does AI offer a more compelling alternative? There is no definitive answer, it is, ultimately, a matter of personal perspectives. But if you're a fashion design student, the best way to find out is to experiment. Push the boundaries of iteration, embrace the capriccio, and see where these processes take you.

In yesterday's post, we explored what fashion designers and students might learn from an exhibition on a modern architect and interior designer. But valuable lessons also emerge from 18th-century painting. The Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza, for instance, is showcasing works by the Italian painter Francesco Guardi (on view until May 11th), drawn from the Calouste Gulbenkian Museum's collection.

Born into a family of painters, Francesco Guardi (1712-1793) trained in the family workshop under his older brother, Gianantonio. Until the late 1750s, his work spanned historical and religious subjects, frescoes, and still lifes. However, his mature career was defined by vedute, urban views of Venice, following in the footsteps of Canaletto (1697-1768). Over time, and particularly after Canaletto's death, Guardi infused his compositions with a more dynamic brushstroke and an increasingly idealized vision, establishing himself as the leading vedutista of his time.

Yet, unlike Canaletto, who pursued precision and clarity, Guardi embraced a more subjective and atmospheric approach. His Venice is not rendered with meticulous accuracy and architectural correctness, but rather reimagined as an ethereal, almost dreamlike city, his urban views are indeed turned into poetic, evocative visions.

The exhibition is displayed across three rooms of the permanent collection and is divided into two sections: "The City and its Festivals" and "Terraferma and the Capricci." The selected works, dating from 1765 to 1791, depict iconic Venetian locations, grand festivals such as the Ascension, the city's surrounding landscapes, and fantastical capricci from the artist's late career.

The exhibition opens with a series of paintings that serve as a visual chronicle of Venice's celebrations, revealing Guardi's early stylistic ties to Canaletto. Among them, The Feast of Ascension in the Piazza San Marco (c. 1775) captures one of the city's most important annual festivities. Guardi animates the Piazza with bustling figures, rendered in swift, impastoed brushstrokes that interplay with light and shadow beneath a delicately nuanced sky.

Another testament to his skill in depicting official ceremonies is The Departure of the Bucintoro (c. 1765–80). This sweeping composition presents the Venetian dock lined with its most significant buildings, while the Doge's ceremonial galley, the Bucintoro, adorned with its red and gold standard, glides through the waters, a striking focal point in Guardi's grand yet atmospheric vision of the city's spectacle.

Regatta on the Grand Canal (c. 1775) and The Rialto Bridge after the Design by Palladio (c. 1770) both focus on the Grand Canal but from contrasting perspectives. The former captures the city in the midst of yet another grand festival, while the latter reimagines Palladio's unrealized vision for the Rialto Bridge, blending architectural fantasy with artistic interpretation.

The second section, "Terraferma and the Capricci," highlights how Guardi's fluid, expressive technique allowed him to break away from academic conventions. In the first part of this section his focus shifts to decaying buildings and modest scenes from Venice's hinterland, moving beyond the opulence typically associated with Venetian views; the second part looks instead more at the capricci.

By the late 17th century and throughout the 18th, European tourism flourished. Wealthy nobles and bourgeois, particularly from England and France, traveled to Italy to refine their education, collect artworks, and acquire antiques. This cultural phenomenon fueled a new art market with Grand Tour travelers seeking painted souvenirs, whether precise city views or imaginative capricci enriched with architectural ruins, essential motifs in Italian paintings of the time. 

Architectural capricci where particularly fashionable: the term capriccio (Italian for "folly," "whim" or "fantasy") reflects a playful, inventive approach rather than strict realism. These imaginative compositions blended real and fictional elements into an idealized scene and juxtaposed architectural elements from different periods, such as classical ruins alongside contemporary buildings, for example, enhanced by dramatic lighting, vast perspectives, and atmospheric effects.

Guardi's capricci are painterly and dynamic, with flickering light and expressive brushstrokes that evoke movement and nostalgia. He merged real Venetian landmarks with imagined elements, creating dreamlike urban landscapes populated by small, indistinct figures that emphasize scale and vitality. Unlike Piranesi's structured fantasies, Guardi's capricci are more atmospheric and impressionistic, capturing emotion over architectural precision.

Even in his most realistic cityscapes, Guardi infuses elements of fantasy, lending his vedute a soft, enigmatic allure through shifting colors, atmospheric effects, and haunting silences. His imaginary landscapes and capricci blur the line between reality and dream, foreshadowing Surrealism. At times, spectral visions rise from the lagoon, these are indeed capricci lagunari (lagoon capricci), dreamlike visions steeped in profound melancholy, decay, and dilapidation, solitude, emptiness and silence.

In Capriccio (c. 1770-80), two fishermen and a dog appear against a ruinous backdrop. A preparatory drawing, Capriccio with Ruined Roman Arch and a Circular Temple (c. 1770-80), displayed alongside, reveals subtle compositional differences.

The exhibition concludes with Regatta on the Grand Canal Near the Rialto Bridge (c. 1791) by Giacomo Guardi and The Bucintoro (c. 1745-50) by Canaletto. However, it is the capricci that may hold the greatest inspiration for fashion and set designers. These imaginative compositions, blending architectural styles from different periods, offer a compelling parallel to contemporary design practices.

Beyond their potential as prints, capricci can serve as a foundation for innovative garments that merge historical elements into a new, harmonious whole. Just as Guardi reinterpreted architectural forms with artistic freedom, and his capricci combined real and imagined architectural elements, modern designers often layer and blend references across eras, remixing historical references, cultural motifs, and disparate aesthetics to create something entirely new, constructing fashion that is both whimsical and sophisticated. In an industry where hybridization is key, embracing a capriccio approach opens endless possibilities for reinvention, so try doing it moving from one of Guardi's capricci, replicating his atmospheres through textures that mimic his soft dissolution of forms, and through colors that capture the luminous haze of his brushwork, reimagining in this way fashion through a lens of artistic and architectural illusion.

Image credits for this post

Francesco Guardi
The Feast of Ascension in the Piazza San Marco, ca. 1775
Oil on canvas. 61 x 91 cm. Lisboa, Museo Calouste Gulbenkian

Francesco Guardi
The Departure of the Bucintoro, ca. 1765-1780
Oil on canvas. 61 x 92 cm. Lisboa, Museo Calouste Gulbenkian

Francesco Guardi
The Portico of the Ducal Palace, ca. 1778
Oil on panel. 24 x 17 cm. Lisboa, Museo Calouste Gulbenkian

Francesco Guardi
The Rialto Bridge after the Design by Palladio, ca. 1770
Oil on canvas. 61 x 92 cm. Lisboa, Museo Calouste Gulbenkian

Francesco Guardi
Architectural Capriccio, ca. 1770-1780
Oil on panel. 19 x 15 cm. Lisboa, Museo Calouste Gulbenkian

You can listen to an audio version of this post in a dialogue form (generated using NotebookLM) at this link: Download Franco Raggi_ Unstable Thoughts on Design and Fashion

Architects and interior designers have long served as sources of inspiration for fashion designers. Some, like the Memphis Milano group, have become enduring references, influencing everything from garments to haute joaillerie.

However, there are equally compelling yet less obvious figures whose work offers rich creative inspiration – one such figure is Franco Raggi. Architect, exhibition designer, editor, designer, artist, and maker, Raggi's multidisciplinary career makes him a fascinating reference point for fashion designers and students alike.

Born in Milan in 1945, Raggi graduated in architecture from the Politecnico di Milano in 1969. His early career saw him collaborating with Studio Nizzoli Associati while also engaging in writing and illustration. After discovering Radical Architecture, Raggi became increasingly engaged with avant-garde art. He contributed to leading design magazines, particularly Casabella and MODO.

At the same time, he played a key role in curating exhibitions, organizing events for the Venice Biennale (1975-76) and the Triennale Milano (1973, 1985). By the late 1970s, his interests had expanded into product and furniture design, leading to collaborations with iconic brands such as FontanaArte, Kartell, Poltronova, and Artemide, just to mention a few.

Currently, Raggi is being celebrated in a dedicated exhibition, "Franco Raggi. Pensieri Instabili" (Franco Raggi. Unstable Thoughts; on view until April 13th) at Triennale Milano. The exhibition explores his contributions to both the Italian and international design scenes, showcasing his work in product design, exhibition installations, interiors, projects, drawings, publishing, and film.

Housed in the Design Platform space of the Museo del Design Italiano, an area devoted to key themes and figures in contemporary design, the exhibition is conceived as an experimental exploration of his work.

Visitors embark on a journey that begins inside a caravan, leading them into a large blue tent that encapsulates Raggi's multifaceted career as both architect and designer. The choice of these structures is far from arbitrary: the caravan references Raggi's 1974 drawing "Tempio Roulotte," showing a classical temple affixed to a mobile home, blending the notions of permanence and impermanence.

The tent in the exhibition serves as both a social structure and an experimental arena, a recurring theme in Raggi's work. Inside the tent displays present photographs, buildings, interior design projects and objects such as lamps, chairs, and furnishing accessories.

Another section is devoted to his magazine work, featuring a selection of covers from Casabella and MODO, along with drawings, notebooks, and extracts from his extensive writings, plus technical drawings also for Gianfranco Ferrè's atelier and showroom. The exhibition concludes with a section featuring images of installations, happenings, and exhibits, including several events held at Triennale.

The blue tent installation is inspired by two significant projects in Raggi's career: "Tenda Rossa" (1974) and the "Roma Interrotta" exhibition (1978) at Trajan’s Market in Rome.

"Tenda Rossa" (Red Tent) was conceived as a survival tool, a conceptual blend in which architectural history combined with the uncertainty of a young graduate still searching for direction. Raggi depicted a Doric temple on a nomadic red tent, symbolizing both tradition and transience. The color red was a poignant reference to the Italia airship disaster of the late 1920s, when an Arctic expedition crashed onto the ice. The stranded survivors repurposed available canvas to pitch a tent, painting it red to increase visibility.

The first physical installation of "Tenda Rossa" took place in a meadow south of Milan and became a collective ritual involving figures like Alessandro Mendini, Carlo Guenzi, and Enrico Bona. Over time, it was re-erected in various locations, including Monselice (1975, for "Architetture Impossibili"), as well as Bologna and Siena, before ultimately being destroyed in a fire.

Through projects like these, Raggi's work continues to challenge the boundaries between architecture, design, and artistic expression. His career serves as a testament to the fluidity of disciplines, offering inspirations to designers across industries, fashion included.

For fashion designers and students, Franco Raggi's work offers several key takeaways, starting with his eclecticism. The way he moves fluidly across disciplines, transitioning from the artist's sketchbook to the architect's drawing board (the title of the exhibition refers to this fluidity – Raggi's work is "unstable" because it is difficult to pigeonhole).

In an interview for this exhibition, Raggi explained that his approach stemmed from a deep sense of uncertainty about where he truly belonged. Instead of limiting him, this uncertainty became a strength, allowing him to explore different creative fields without constraints. This concept is particularly relevant to our times in which we often find ourselves branching out in different contexts. In contemporary fashion we also have designers who are increasingly blending disciplines, borrowing from art, architecture, and performance to shape their collections, and finding new materials and forms in very different fields including medicine and science.

Another defining aspect of Raggi's work is his constant fascination with contemporary art and design. He viewed these fields as spaces of freedom and innovation, where contrasting elements could coexist. This openness to contradiction and hybridity is a powerful lesson for designers, fashion thrives indeed on juxtapositions, whether it's mixing luxury with streetwear, old techniques with new technology, or structure with fluidity.

Beyond this, Raggi also anticipated key material innovations: in 1983, he wrote the article "Le Olimpiadi dei materiali" (The Olympics of Materials) for Alcantara's exhibition "Materialidea," predicting the rise of materials that would become increasingly mimetic, chameleon-like, and high-performance in their apparent mutability. We can compare what he wrote then with what is happening nowadays with the fashion industry exploring adaptive textiles, smart fabrics, and sustainable biomaterials that transform with wear and environment.

Fabric played a recurring role in Raggi's projects: outside his "Roma Interrotta" exhibition at the Trajan’s Market, a confrontation between 18th century Rome and a contemporary Rome reimagined by 12 international architects, he installed a light blue fabric adorned with the exhibition's title in gold lettering, a design inspired by the drapery of Catholic rituals.

Some of his textiles, like the panels with prints of columns, representing sparse fragments of architecture in space, are included in this event. These pieces evoke an elegant and timeless quality and you can bet that at some point they will reappear as prints in a fashion collection.

Further inspirations may come from Raggi's lamps, for example from the shape of his first lamps, the Oz (1979), a skewed cone with a rhombus inserted into it, and the Cap, a white opaline ogival element paired with a colourful adjustable disk.

There are also Oskar, a lamp vaguely inspired by a character from Oskar Schlemmer's "Triadisches Ballett," that, when disassembled, looks like the pattern for a dress (or that could inspire a dress that could become a lamp… View this photo) and the anodized aluminum candelabrum "Scongiuri" (literally "superstitions," "incantations" or "counter-charms," as the candelabrum's name is inspired by the superstitious sign of the horns) that is also a DIY sculpture that you can assemble and reconfigure (are there any fashion designs nowadays that can be easily assembled and reconfigured by the wearer?).

Perhaps the most thought-provoking aspect of Raggi's work for fashion designers is his exploration of the body and constraints that resulted in a spontaneous collective project titled "Scarpe Vincolanti" (Shoes for Forced Confrontation, View this photo), a conceptual investigation into the archetypes of making and the relationship between body, object, and ritual. In June 1975, architects, designers, and artists gathered in the courtyard of an old Milanese house to create improbable, uncomfortable, and inevitably ephemeral objects along the theme "the body and constraints."

In stark contrast to the dominant trend of technological, ergonomic, and functional design, Raggi and the others embraced an archaic and dysfunctional approach. The resulting objects were provocative and disruptive, challenging assumptions about design's purpose and questioning whether objects must always be useful. Some of the most extravagant designs included: tube-glasses that forced prolonged eye contact and binding bracelets that physically restricted movement; masks that obscured vision while exposing only the mouth, nose, or ears; intentionally impractical clogs designed for uphill walking; elastic garments for conjoined wearers, forcing intimacy and shared movement, and shoes for forced confrontation, made from experimental clay, which fused two different shoes together, preventing movement and compelling wearers into a regulated physical and visual relationship.

These experiments anticipated many ideas that continue to inspire contemporary fashion – think about the themes of restriction, transformation, and body-object interaction in modern fashion.

Last but not least, there is also the "Valigia degli Stili" (Style Suitcase) that may prove intriguing for fashion designers and students. This idea was born from a collaboration with Alessandro Guerriero of Studio Alchimia. Guerriero envisioned an exhibition of containers and invited various designers to create their own suitcase.

In response, Raggi introduced "Valigia degli Stili," a concept that transformed an architect into a door-to-door salesperson offering interchangeable styles. He imagined a suitcase featuring numerous small compartments filled with fabric pieces that showcased different designs, each one capable of being pulled out to reveal a new aesthetic. However, this approach proved too complicated to execute. So he narrowed the focus to just two contrasting styles: once you opened the case, crafted entirely from mahogany and adorned with brass details, you would find two tags labeled "Greek" and "Modern," each accompanied by its corresponding piece of fabric: one with a hand-painted Greek column and the other entirely white. This concept invites further exploration: can we reimagine the "style suitcase" for a fashion designer? Or a knitwear designer? What would we include in such a container?

So, if you visit this exhibition at Triennale, don't stop at the single objects, but think in which ways Raggi's legacy can offer a powerful message for contemporary (fashion) designers, from embracing uncertainty to seeking inspiration across disciplines and challenging conventions in unexpected, conceptual or playful ways.

Image credits for this post

1. Tempio Roulotte, ink and pencil drawing on cardboard, 1974. Courtesy of Franco Raggi Archive.

2. La Tenda Rossa dell'Architettura, hand-painted and hand-sewn fabrics, 1975. Courtesy of FRAC Centre-Val de Loire Collection, Orléans.

3 to 7. Installation Views, Franco Raggi's "Unstable Thoughts" @ Triennale Milano, Milan, Italy. Photography: Delfino Sisto Legnani – DSL Studio © Triennale Milano.

8. La Classica, 1976. Photography: Gianluca Di Ioia – Triennale Milano.

9. OZ, table version, FontanaArte, 1980. Courtesy of Franco Raggi Archive.

10. OZ, floor version, study sketches, 1980. Photography: Gianluca Di Ioia – Triennale Milano.

11. Cap, sketches and studies, 1981. Photography: Gianluca Di Ioia – Triennale Milano.

12. Scongiuri, self-produced by FR, 1998. Photography: Gianluca Di Ioia – Triennale Milano.

13. Valigia degli Stili, 1977, pastel on paper. Franco Raggi Archive.

14. Axonometric drawing of the Granciclismo showroom (with Daniela Puppa), 1988. Courtesy of Franco Raggi Archive.

In yesterday's post, we explored an exhibition at MAMbo – Museo d'Arte Moderna di Bologna (Museum of Modern Art of Bologna) and mentioned Nanni Balestrini, Arrigo Lora Totino, and Cinzia Ruggeri. Interestingly, all three artists are also featured in another exhibition at the same museum, offering visitors and fans an opportunity to extend their visit and discover more about them.

"Facile Ironia. L'ironia nell'arte italiana tra XX e XXI secolo" (Easy Irony. Irony in Italian art of the 20th and 21st centuries, until September 7th), curated by Lorenzo Balbi and Caterina Molten, brings together over 100 works and archival documents from more than 70 artists, spanning from the 1950s to today. The exhibition examines irony as both a critical and imaginative tool in Italian art, revealing how it has been used to challenge conventions and expose contradictions.

Historically tied to Socratic questioning, irony emerges here as a multifaceted device that disrupts established paradigms and offers fresh perspectives on reality. In Italian art, it has long served to unmask false certainties and playfully reframe the world around us.

The exhibition's title, "Facile Ironia" (Easy Irony), playfully hints at the paradox between irony's apparent simplicity and its deeper complexities. Through this lens, the show encourages audiences to reflect on the relationship between art, society, and the subversive power of humor. Organized into thematic sections, the exhibition explores different facets of irony.

The first section, "Irony as Paradox", focuses on the way irony upends common sense, destabilizing conventional narratives and prompting viewers to look beyond the obvious. A striking example is Gino De Dominicis' "Mozzarella in Carrozza", a literal interpretation of the classic Italian dish: "mozzarella in carrozza" literally means "mozzarella in a carriage" and the work features indeed a mozzarella inside a carriage. Similarly, Marisa Merz's recently rediscovered video "La conta" (The count) captures the artist in an absurd yet methodical act, counting peas from a box instead of cooking them, turning a mundane kitchen moment into an exercise in paradox.

In "Irony as Play", the exhibition highlights the liberating and imaginative potential of playfulness in art. Here, creativity breaks free from rigid norms, transforming everyday materials into unexpected forms of expression. This playful ethos shines through in the works of Bruno Munari, whose "sculture da viaggio" (travel sculptures), foldable sculptures, often given as gifts or sent as greeting cards, challenge traditional artistic conventions and invite viewers to reconsider the rules of artmaking.

The third section, "Irony as Feminist Social Critique," offers a compelling exploration of gender and power. Drawing on the idea that laughter and gendered humor can both reveal and subvert societal norms, this part of the exhibition highlights how female artists have used irony to challenge patriarchal stereotypes, societal expectations, and the cultural codes that shape gender roles. Featured here is "Carta da parato," an "environment" by Tomaso Binga (Bianca Menna), first presented in 1978 at the Galleria d'Arte Moderna in Bologna as part of "Metafisica del quotidiano." Also showcased are works from Neapolitan collectives such as Gruppo XX and Donne/Immagine/Creatività, alongside Cinzia Ruggeri's striking snake and egg dress from her Spring/Summer 1988 collection, her "Sponge Apron" (1988-1995) and "Gioco per palude" (Swamp Game, 2018, View this photo).

Political engagement and institutional critique are also central themes in the exhibition. "Irony as a Tool for Political Mobilization" examines how artists have creatively dismantled cultural and political paradigms, using irony as a vehicle for collective action. Here, art becomes an act of resistance, blending individual expression with a call for societal change. Among the standout works are photographic documentation of the interventions by Michelangelo Pistoletto's Lo Zoo collective and the politically charged collages of Nanni Balestrini.

Complementing this section, "Irony as Institutional Critique" turns its focus to the unwritten rules and power structures of the art world itself. Through a playful yet incisive lens, the exhibition invites viewers to question the very foundations of the art system. Eva & Franco Mattes' recent work investigates the notion of originality in contemporary art, exemplified by "Copycat," a piece featuring a taxidermy cat being replicated inside a photocopying machine (certainly this will not be a hit with animal lovers).

Finally, "Irony as Nonsense" delves into the playful subversion of language. This section celebrates the Italian poets and writers who experimented with phonetics, embracing the liberating potential of the spoken word. By stripping language of its conventional meaning, artists such as Arrigo Lora Totino highlight a more primal, instinctive form of expression, one that breaks free from logical constraints and revels in the absurd.

Not including more fashion designs in the exhibition feels like a missed opportunity, specially considering the Italian tradition of blending irony with deeper cultural commentary in garments and accessories as well (and considering how fashion has appropriated in more recent years some of the artists included here, think about Tomaso Binga's collaboration for the stage set of Dior's Autumn-Winter 2019-2020 ready-to-wear show, where her alphabet-poem performance became a bold statement on language and gender).

Fashion could have been woven more prominently into different sections of the exhibition, as it often serves as a playground for irony, subversion, and critique. Take Cinzia Ruggeri's snake and egg dress: while it appears under feminist art, it could have just as easily belonged to other sections. Indeed this isn't necessarily a feminist design, but it is undeniably ironic and playful (the same can be said of her quirky aprons…).

Snakes are often perceived as dangerous, monstrous (especially in connection with women, from Eve to Medusa…) and repulsive, yet their skins are prized as symbols of luxury in fashion. In this design Ruggeri flipped the script, transforming them into a mass of fabric serpents coiled protectively around the bodice of the dress, almost as if they're guarding the wearer in a tongue-in-cheek way. Meanwhile, eggs, a recurring motif in the work of the designer, are far from the conventional markers of glamour. Humble, everyday, and decidedly unpretentious, they become a decorative and whimsical feature.

More than a feminist statement, this dress is an act of ironic defiance against the fashion world itself. Ruggeri had an extraordinary ability to turn everyday motifs into potent, ironic symbols challenging us to rethink what we know about fashion, power, and self-expression.

Hilarious, rebellious, punk, and delightfully absurd, the dress, complete with sunny-side-up yolks, was a way of questioning accepted fashion narratives and of flipping a metaphorical two fingers at the seriousness of high fashion. After all, you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette.

Image credits for this post

1. Installation Views. Facile ironia. L'ironia nell'arte italiana tra XX e XXI secolo. Photography by: Carlo Favero. © Marisa Merz, by Siae 2025; © Archivio Gino De Dominicis, Foligno, by Siae 2025

2. Installation Views. Facile ironia. L'ironia nell'arte italiana tra XX e XXI secolo. Photography by: Carlo Favero. © Archivio Gino De Dominicis, Foligno, by Siae 2025

3. Installation Views. Facile ironia. L'ironia nell'arte italiana tra XX e XXI secolo. Photography by: Carlo Favero. © Bruno Munari

4. Installation Views. Facile ironia. L'ironia nell'arte italiana tra XX e XXI secolo. Photography by: Carlo Favero. © Tomaso Binga. © Chiara Fumai, Dogaressa Elisabetta Querini, Zalumma Agra, Annie Jones, Dope Head, Harry Houdini, Eusapia Palladino read Valerie Solanas (2013)

5. Cinzia Ruggeri, S/S 1988 Collection, Cotton and synthetic fibre dress with snakes and eggs, Cinzia Ruggeri Archive, Milan

The work of many women across various fields – art, design, architecture, and science, to mention a few – often fades into obscurity. Some are forgotten entirely, while others are rediscovered only after their passing, gaining posthumous recognition. But sometimes, new generations of admirers and researchers bring about exciting rediscoveries, as it happened to Italian dancer and choreographer Valeria Magli who was fortunate to witness a renewed appreciation for her work during her lifetime.

In 2013, after suffering a brain haemorrhage, Magli reflected on whether her artistic legacy, already considered niche, would disappear with her. Yet, a generational shift took her by surprise: a newfound interest in her performances transformed her Milan-based studio into a lively hub, drawing researchers, artists, and filmmakers who became, in her words, like her artistic children and grandchildren, ensuring her legacy would endure. Among them is Caterina Molteni, who recently curated the compact exhibition Valeria Magli – Morbid in the Project Room at MAMbo – Museo d'Arte Moderna di Bologna (on view until May 11, 2025).

Born in Bologna in 1952, Magli built a career between her hometown and Milan, crafting performances that wove together literature, poetry, avant-garde music, and dance. She embraced an anti-spectacular approach to movement, blending elements of cabaret, clowning, music hall, and tap dance.

These techniques became her means of challenging traditional representations of the female body, offering a sharp critique of the objectified image of women perpetuated by the media.

The female figure is the common thread weaving through the entire exhibition at MAMbo. Throughout her practice Magli experimented with performance languages, showing how subverting them, or placing them in absurd, paradoxical situations, could become a way to reclaim the female body exposed on stage.

This focus on the female form is reflected in the exhibition's title: "morbid" is an adjective Magli deliberately chose to describe the female figure. It echoes the Italian word "morbido" (meaning "soft"), but is pronounced with a German inflection, evoking the English "morbid", a term linked to the sickly, unsettling, and grotesque. This dual meaning captures the contradictory qualities historically attributed to women. "Morbid" plays therefore on two enduring clichés: woman as a delicate object of desire and as an irrational, disruptive force, both manic and obsessive. This term is juxtaposed to the opposite of "morbid", "rigid", a quality Magli associates with men (symbolically represented through a phallic banana), perceived as upright and stable within patriarchal structures.

The exhibition unfolds across five sections, or movements, each tracing Magli's exploration and redefinition of femininity through her work. Even though the event unfolds in just one room, there is enough material here to make you wonder if, beyond simply rediscovering her work, we'll need to explore whether some of these pieces can be reimagined for the stage in a modern context or even reinvented (after all Magli's Pupilla was revived in 2014).

The journey begins in the '70s in Bologna, where Magli studied and was introduced to piano, ballet, artistic gymnastics, and competitive swimming by her parents as a child. She then attended the Faculty of Philosophy in Bologna, graduating in Aesthetics with a thesis titled "Corpo, ideologia, spettacolo" (Body, Ideology, Spectacle).

Her dissertation is displayed here alongside her ballet slippers and Antonietta Laterza's feminist album "Alle sorelle ritrovate," with Magli, who was closely involved with the Collettivo Femminista Bolognese (Bologna Feminist Collective), appearing on the cover.

Additional documents from Magli's Bologna period reference her training with clown Roy Bosier, and include her Italian translation of Étienne Decroux's Paroles sur le Mime, and the play L'Amleto non si può fare by Vittorio Franceschi, in which Magli incorporated her circus experience.

In the '60s, a neo-avant-garde group of intellectuals called Gruppo 63 emerged in Italy, experimenting with writing marked by rhythmic qualities.

In the '70s, Magli connected with some of these intellectuals, including Nanni Balestrini and Arrigo Lora Totino, a pioneer of Italian phonetic poetry, developing a sort of physical grammar.

With Arrigo Lora Totino, Magli created in 1982 the Futura project, a performance inspired by Totino's research in avant-garde poetry, Futurism, Dada, and Lettrism. In the performance, Magli and Totino, dressed in tuxedos, transformed poetic texts into mimed declamations, enriched by ironic sketches.

Rare footage from the '70s reveals the structure of the performance, with Magli wearing tights under her tuxedo jacket, a detail that disrupted the scene's elegance and allowed her to burst into dance interludes, one of which reinterpreted Marinetti's "Bombardamento" (the final section of the free-word poem Zang Tumb Tumb), a cornerstone of Futurist poetry, through tap dance.

Magli’s meeting with Balestrini led to a series of collaborations: as Balestrini's texts became more rhythmic and sonic, Magli developed various performances and actions that became her so-called Poesia ballerina (dancing poetry), an exploration of the body in poetry, which later evolved into a metaphor for the female body.

The first example in the exhibition is La signorina Richmond (1978), a work inspired by Balestrini's Le ballate della signorina Richmond (1977). In this piece, Balestrini, through the image of a winged woman, questions the nature of poetry and utopia, before tracing the political struggles of Italy's "Years of Lead" and the turbulent spirit of the '60s and '70s. The poems are structured in quatrains and carry a satirical tone.

Magli interpreted the text, turning the ballads into a fully realized performance: she embodied a metaphorical woman who pulled various objects from a trunk (a set designed by artist Gianfranco Baruchello, which featured a trunk that opened to allow Magli to take on different roles) and played multiple parts, with movements characterized by a broken rhythm.

Through the fragmented structure of the performance, Magli evoked a female figure that resisted symbolism and embraced allegory as a poetic figure of protest.

Some of the costumes in this performance, including a pink pyjama jacket and a lime-tiered dress with a red sash at the waist, were designed by the late artist, fashion and interior designer Cinzia Ruggeri, whose costumes also appear in the third section of the exhibition.

With Nanni Balestrini, Magli also collaborated on Milleuna (1979), featuring the voice of singer Demetrio Stratos. This became her most famous piece: presented in Milan and Bologna, it was later performed in New York and Paris.

The piece moved from another work by Balestrini, a poem of one hundred words, all beginning with "S" and alluding to sexuality. The poem was sung by Stratos, while Magli developed a choreography that challenged the audience's erotic projections onto her body.

Magli danced in the darkness, avoiding the audience’s gaze, but stood still whenever the light was switched on again. The result was a hypnotic dance, a juxtaposition of voice and erotic tension in a game in which the audience was invited to imagine the movement of the body without desiring it while it moved. The exhibition includes some props from this performance, as well as a costume designed by Annagemma Lascari.

The costume appears to feature eight padded sections resembling breasts that transformed Magli's body. Magli has a story that connects this costume with a renowned Italian designer.

"Lascari graduated under Gianfranco Ferré," she recalls as we look at the Milleuna section of the exhibition. "He adored her work, and when I complained about having to perform Milleuna in my bodysuit because I couldn't afford proper costumes, despite constantly touring with the show, Ferré suggested I asked Annagemma to design one for me. At the time, she was graduating with an experimental thesis on Montedison fabrics and she came up with this avant-garde piece."

More costumes are featured in the next section, dubbed by Magli and the curator as the "Bananas section" since it focuses on Banana morbide (1980) and Banana lumière (1981), both works with choreography, dance, and voice by Magli, set to texts by Nanni Balestrini and music by John Cage (with Walter Marchetti on Banana lumière).

In both cases, the costumes were designed by Cinzia Ruggeri, who was rediscovered only posthumously. In the exhibition, the costumes are on display alongside costume sketches and a photographic documentation.

"I was friends with Demetrio Stratos and had worked with him; through him, I met his cousin, Thalia Istikopoulou, one of the founders of the Teatro dell'Elfo in Milan," Magli recalls.

"Thalia was very close to Cinzia, they worked together. One day, for a project, Thalia introduced us, and Cinzia and I immediately hit it off. Cinzia had this kind of Austrian aura, she was like a 1930s Austrian figure, but when she laughed, it was hearty and loud, like a truck driver! That's how our friendship began: we'd meet in the evenings, often with our partners and friends. She was with Valentino Parmiani at the time, who was incredibly talented and was an extraordinary illustrator. I think he did some of the sketches for Cinzia's costumes because they are very detailed and they remind me of his style."

Banana morbide was first presented as part of the first exhibition dedicated to Magli in Milan. The work explored the contrasts between the masculine and the feminine worlds, with the term "banana" evoking phallic rigidity, and the adjective "morbide" adding another layer to the theme.

Ruggeri's costumes played a crucial role in both performances: for Banana morbide, Ruggeri designed a series of light, see-through garments in different colors, ranging from nude to vivid red, deep purple, and black. The right sleeve of the first garment was long but gradually in the other garments it receded, adding another layer of symbolism and visual interest.

When Magli started the performance, she wore the nude design with the longer sleeve, then she added more layers one on top of the other, in a reversed striptease.

There was a deep meaning behind it all: the garments symbolized a stratification of life experiences and emotions – from birth to love, and ultimately to mourning, represented by black. As life passed, the sleeves became shorter and shorter. All the different colored garments layered over her body and on her arm became in this way a testament to the passage of life.

Accompanied by Cage's atonal music and Balestrini's text, which created a playful narrative, Magli's movements, poses, and winks alluded to the sensuality of soubrettes. Yet, the promise of sensuality was never fully realized, as the anticipated striptease never happened.

This ingenious and symbolic design may evoke memories among film and costume experts of Piero Tosi's costume for Silvana Mangano as Giovanna in the final episode of the film Le streghe (The Witches, 1967) - "A night like any other" by Vittorio De Sica. Towards the end of the episode, Giovanna, clad in an amazing black satin dress with a colourful billowing cape formed by strips of fabrics knotted on her shoulders, dreams of stripping in a stadium. As she undresses, Giovanna reveals underneath the black satin dress more colourful dresses layered one on top of the other, in green, yellow and red, hinting at her real character, definitely brighter than her grey existence.

Fashion design students should therefore pay attention to the possibilities of layering different colored garments one on the other, also keeping in mind examples of this technique that appeared in previous fashion collections. Adeline André's A/W 2010-11 Haute Couture collection, for instance, included long-tiered dresses made using seamless pieces of fabrics over-imposed one to the other, creating interesting technicolour effects and showing that, by changing the length and colour of a piece of fabric, the entire design can be altered.

Recalling the creative process behind such playful and inventive designs, Magli fondly reminisces, "When we worked on the Banane pieces, Cinzia and I always had a drink in hand, and we'd never stopped laughing, I remember it clearly. We joked about bananas and about men, we called them 'those ones who had the banana'."

In the early '80s Ruggeri experimented with behavioral and environmental garments and designs that incorporated LED lights and liquid crystals, which allowed the textiles to change colors when the temperature changed. Banana lumière enabled her to create a costume that played with light. 

"That project was done in collaboration with artist Piero Fogliati; the three of us were in Cinzia's showroom, and I just observed how they interacted and we eventually created a costume in which the light was used to escape objectification," Magli recalls.

In the first part of the performance, Magli engaged with two sculptures by Piero Fogliati that emitted light and iridescent beacons. In the second part, wearing Ruggeri's black bodysuit decorated with white dots, beads and ping pong balls, Magli transformed herself into a shimmering structure.

One thing that can't be appreciated here (but it is illustrated by Ruggeri’s sketch, also included in the exhibition) is that once Magli started dancing in this garment, the movements became increasingly dizzying, and with the circular motion of the ping pong balls, the black and white colors created a light spectrum.

So, the dancer appeared dressed in the colors generated by the interaction between the garment and the stage lights. Once again, the costume had a profound meaning: it allowed the dancer to transform into a luminous device capable of refracting, emitting, and capturing light.

Magli's collaboration with Ruggeri continued in the video "Per un vestire organico" (not included in this exhibition), shot in Ruggeri's Milanese showroom, in which Magli moved clad in a blue bodysuit adorned with countless suction cups, but also with other works.

"Aside from Banana morbide, Banana lumière, we did Indications de jeu and Schönberg Kabarett, the latter featuring Cinzia and Thalia's hand-painted costumes," Magli says. "Then, in 1984, there was a performance with the LED dress at Milan's Conservatory, where I wore Cinzia's illuminated dress and danced among the orchestra, performing to John Cage's Sixteen Dances."

The next section of the exhibition delves deeper into the female body and is focused on Pupilla, premiered in Milan in 1983.

Originally conceived for five dancers, it was staged with just Valeria Magli as the sole performer, going through five tableaus, due to organizational and financial constraints. The performance was conceived as an exploration of femininity in reverse, in which a doll was employed as a narrative tool to trace the ages and transformations of a woman.

In the first tableau of Pupilla, Magli stars as La signora, an elegantly attired lady dancing to a waltz in a space reminiscent of a ballroom. She wears two masks on her wrists, one sad and one smiling, symbolizing her internal emotional states. In the next tableau, "Bambine" (Young Girls), Magli performs a fragmented dance while wearing a wax mask. The third tableau, "Sabola", explores adolescence, caught in a state of suspension between innocence and restlessness. In this scene, Magli dances with a doll resembling herself.

The fourth tableau, "Machine", features Magli dressed in an outfit inspired by Max Ernst’s "La préparation de la colle d'os" (The Preparation of Glue from Bones View this photo). This armor-like costume gives Magli a cyborg-like appearance as she performs mechanical movements, surrounded by lanterns shaped like Michelin men.

The fifth tableau, "Die Puppe", inspired by Hans Bellmer, shows Magli interacting with a puppet that has exaggerated breasts, while the feet of the puppet sport Mary Jane shoes and socks that evoke the attire of a young girl. This tableau symbolizes a woman transfigured by herself and others.

The exhibition closes with a piece that brings Magli back to Bologna: here in 1990 Magli presented Tenez tennis, inspired by the French tennis star Suzanne Lenglen. The piece explored a love affair between Magli and Lenglen, based on a text by Gianni Clerici.

The play centered around Magli confessing to her hypothetical fiancé her infatuation with Suzanne Lenglen, to which her fiancé responded, "I don't understand why it has to be her and not Joan of Arc." What fascinated Magli about Lenglen was that, despite being an athlete, she never abandoned her femininity and had fashionable outfits custom-made for her, embodying a distinct feminine presence that fascinated Valeria Magli. For this performance Magli turned to Romeo Gigli for the costumes.

The exhibition also features a video by Gianni Toti, in which vintage photographs of Suzanne Lenglen are reworked and edited, set to music by John Cage.

Cage wrote to Magli, explaining the process behind the music: it involved recording tennis matches, cutting the tape into pieces, and then reassembling it. This method resulted in a disruption of the rhythmic flow typical of a match between two players.

While recreating the rhythms of tennis balls bouncing on the court and on rackets, Cage's "Music for Tennis Balls" evoked the speed and intensity Lenglen experienced during matches and also hinted at the hectic pace of contemporary life.

For Magli, this speed became a metaphor for reflecting on the female condition, as well as the possibility of rescuing forgotten women from obscurity, something that became part of a broader project that she pursued throughout the 1990s, rediscovering female figures from the past with her piece Coco e le altre (Coco and the others, 1998; not included in this exhibition).

This theme resonates with the mission of younger generations, who are working to rescue women's legacies from erasure. For Magli, this effort is a form of resistance, not only against historical neglect but also against the transformation of feminine aesthetics in a world that she feels is becoming increasingly hostile towards women.

"They have changed the aesthetics of femininity, just look at TV shows, and at women with surgically altered lips and bottoms," she states. "It's a transformation that young women can't ignore, but must question and must fight against."

Image credits for this post

Image 2: Valeria Magli, Pupilla, 1983. Photograph by Carla Cerati. Courtesy Elena Ceratti

Image 25: Valeria Magli, Banana lumière, 1981, Teatro di Porta Romana, Milano. Photograph by Rina Aprile

In yesterday’s post, we explored Bologna's architectural details, but there's another layer of urban charm that offers unexpected inspiration for fashion: cultural and commercial signage.

These relics of the past can be reimagined as cryptic, slogan-like motifs on T-shirts and accessories, transformed into bold prints or recreated with sequins and crystals for a playful kitsch touch.

Continuing our walk through Bologna, we'll come across numerous well-preserved trade signs, each carrying echoes of the city's commercial history. Early signs relied on pictorial symbols, practical in an era when literacy was limited.

By the 13th and 14th centuries, artisan guilds and merchants set up shop beneath Bologna's distinctive porticoes, marking their businesses with painted wooden panels or wrought iron signs adorned with symbols of their trade. Over time, especially during the Renaissance and Baroque periods, these signs became more elaborate, evolving into intricate works of art. Sign-making remained therefore a collaborative craft, blending the skills of carpenters, carvers, painters, gilders, and ironworkers.

The 19th and early 20th centuries ushered in yet another transformation, with Art Nouveau – known in Italy as Stile Liberty – influencing shopfronts and signage. Curved lettering, floral motifs, and ornate ironwork became defining features of cafés and boutiques, adding an extra layer of elegance to the city's streetscape.

The mid-20th century ushered in a new era of signage, with neon lights illuminating Bologna's streets. Yet, many of the city's more minimalist signs were preserved, standing as both artistic and cultural artifacts. Their typography, color palettes, and graphic motifs continue to inspire, reflecting Bologna's evolving urban identity while also sparking curiosity about the stories behind them.

Take, for example, the sign for Teatro Modernissimo, first a theatre then a cinema that opened in 1915, during a time when Bologna was embracing modernity with new entertainment venues, department stores, and grand cafés. Designed in the elegant Art Nouveau style, this space became a cultural landmark for decades before being restored and reopened for future generations in 2023.

Equally significant are the Albergo Diurno (literally "Day Hotel") signs, which recall a fascinating piece of urban history.

Popular in Italy from the late 19th to early 20th century, these underground public service facilities catered to travelers and locals alike, offering a place to freshen up, get a haircut, or have their shoes shined. Inside, one could indeed find public baths, barbershops, luggage storage and manicure services.

In Bologna, you can still spot the entrance to the Diurno Cobianchi, an establishment founded in 1911 by Cleopatro Cobianchi.

Located beneath the Voltone del Podestà, much like Milan's Albergo Diurno Venezia, it was a stylish underground space featuring Art Deco interiors. It offered the latest comforts with two spacious, elegantly furnished rooms with private toilet cabins, small writing lounges, shoeshine services, a perfumery counter, lockers for storing packages, a telephone booth, and access to fresh drinking water. It also boasted English-style toilets, radiator heating, gas and electric lighting, and electric fans. Though no longer in operation, its signs, crafted in bold, capitalized lettering, stand as subtle yet powerful markers of an era when urban services were designed with both aesthetic care and civic pride. By 1916, three such facilities were already operating in Bologna's city center, with the Cobianchi serving the public until its closure in December 1998.

So, as you wander through Bologna, take a moment to seek out its hidden visual treasures – signs for restaurants, bars, pharmacies, hardware stores, butchers, delicatessens, fish shops, grocery stores, wine shops, hat makers, shoemakers, bakeries, bookstores and barbers. Some are more elegant and elaborate, others minimalist or beautifully weathered with time.

Whether gleaming with restored grandeur or rusted into poetic decay, each sign is a fragment of the city's rich urban fabric. Even the signage embedded in pavements, often unnoticed beneath hurried footsteps, offers unexpected motifs – graphic compositions, typefaces, and textures that can be reinterpreted, as suggested earlier on in this post, in prints, embroideries, and embellishments, bringing the language of the streets into the fabric of fashion.

In yesterday's post, we explored a collection of accessories inspired by iconic Parisian landmarks. But, remember, as a fashion design student, you don't need to be in a glamorous capital to find exciting inspirations. There's creativity all around you, even in the everyday environments we often overlook.

When it comes to architectural inspiration, one of the most powerful starting points is the shape of a city itself. Take Venice, for example, shaped like a fish, or Bologna, which resembles a wheel. Think about how a city's outline might inspire a design element, a jewelry piece or a pattern, perhaps? So, to kickstart your creative process, look at a city map, maybe better using a paper one as there's something special about physically holding a city in your hands and letting your mind wander over its shape.

Obviously, though, walking through a city is one of the best ways to spot potential design inspirations. Just try not to overthink it as, most times, inspiring details come when you're wandering aimlessly, letting the environment surprise you.

Since I mentioned Bologna, let's take a walk around it spotting details that may be intriguing. The image of the Virgin Mary on the remaining walls of Porta Lame (once the Church of the Santissimo Crocefisso del Porto Naviglio, or Madonna del Porto, 17th century) juxtaposes beautifully with the rusty, glass-less window behind it.

This contrast between the sacred and the decayed could inspire a variety of fashion concepts: imagine transforming that window's weathered texture into a textile pattern, or perhaps using the rusty, abandoned look as the basis for surface design techniques. The contrast itself – sacred Vs neglected – suggests an exploration of opposites, opening the door to juxtaposing elements in a design.

Exploring further the area, you'll come across the Santuario di Santa Maria della Visitazione al Ponte delle Lame, dating back to 1527. The current structure, with its unfinished façade, was reconstructed in 1764 following a design by Marc'Antonio Bianchini. The façade's brickwork is particularly striking: the disordered bricks jutting out from the side of the church like shards create indeed an intriguing texture that could serve as inspiration for fascinating textures and treatments.

For those seeking more elegant design influences, check out the Ex Reale Manifattura dei Tabacchi, a former royal tobacco factory designed by architect Gaetano De Napoli in 1906, located along Via Riva di Reno.

Its Jugendstil style, defined by graceful lines and intricate detailing, offers the perfect inspiration for minimalist yet refined embroidery techniques. The building's blend of grandeur and delicacy could spark ideas for subtly intricate patterns or the understated elegance of decorative stitching.

If you're drawn to more opulent and intricate embroideries, take a look at the ceiling of the presbytery of the Cathedral of Saint Peter, which is richly adorned.

In yesterday's post we looked at how details from a ceiling can inspire the use of sequinned embellishments to bring depth and sparkle to a designs.

But architectural details like marble floors can also provide exciting inspiration especially for knitwear. While we've looked at more complex floors in previous posts, the marble pavement in this cathedral offers a more minimalist approach. Its clean, geometric lines could spark ideas for simple, sophisticated knits with subtle yet striking patterns.

For additional embroidery inspiration, the flowers carved into the columns of Palazzo Re Enzo (the Palace of King Enzo) are worth a closer look. This Medieval and Renaissance blend of styles, coupled with its impressive brickwork, makes for an intriguing design element.

Built between 1244 and 1246, the palace once housed King Enzo of Sardinia, who was captured during the Battle of Fossalta and held prisoner in Bologna for the rest of his life. The intricate details on the columns could inspire delicate floral embroidery.

Windows remain a fascinating source of inspiration (and let's not forget that we met a window collector in a previous post), for their structures or for the decorative metal grilles protecting them.

Many windows in Bologna are in the Gothic style and therefore feature a distinct pointed arch and a central column, or mullion, that divides the space.

In some instances, especially in more intricate windows, the central column may also have decorative elements, such as carvings, further enhancing the window's visual appeal.

The mullion serves both an aesthetic and structural purpose, reinforcing the window's frame and supporting the tracery, and this idea of a dual-purpose element is worth considering in fashion design – how can a detail in a garment serve as both an integral structural component and an embellishment? Exploring this idea could lead you to innovative silhouettes where form and ornamentation become one.

Among the Gothic windows you may stumble upon in Bologna there are those of the Palazzo della Mercanzia, located in Piazza della Mercanzia, a historic crossroads where trade routes once converged.

Completed in 1391 and later refurbished, this Gothic-style palace built with a mix of brick and Istrian stone serves as the seat of commercial, manufacturing, agricultural, and handicraft activities. Its porticoed loggia with cross vaults is particularly striking, offering a play of light and shadow that could translate beautifully into layered fabrics or architectural draping techniques.

Porticoes, of course, are one of Bologna's defining features: these covered walkways line many of the city's streets, providing shelter from both rain and sun. Beyond their practical function, they also create a rhythmic, poetic quality throughout the city. 

The variety in their materials, from wooden beams to solid brick, affects sound reverberation, making acoustics an unexpected yet integral part of their design. And this is an interesting reminder that fashion, like architecture, isn't just about aesthetics, it's also about movement, interaction, and sensory experience.

So next time you're on the lookout for architectural inspirations, don't just observe what surrounds you, but immerse yourself in it, listen to it, and feel it. Have a lovely architecture and fashion walk wherever you are!