in conversation: andrea bellini
Andrea Bellini photographed by Mathilde Agius.
Andrea Bellini (born 1971) is the director of the Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève and artistic director of the Biennale of Moving Images since 2012. Prior to his current position, he was the co-director of Castello di Rivoli, the director of the art fair Artissima in Turin, the curator at MoMA PS1 and the editor-in- chief of Flash Art International in New York.
He has curated more than 100 major group and solo exhibitions - of Marina Abramović, Lisetta Carmi, Chuiqimamani-Condori, Roberto Cuoghi, John McCraken, Hannah Black, Jurema Mombaça, Nicole Miller, Philippe Parreno or Thomas Schütte, to name just a few.
In 2024, he curated the Swiss Pavilion at the Venice Biennale.
LUCIJA ŠUTEJ: To open the conversation, I would like to hear about your journey into contemporary art. What situations and exhibitions made you decide to pursue the curatorial vocation?
ANDREA BELLINI: That kind of question almost needs a small treatise for an answer – or psychoanalysis (laugh). I started to become interested in images very early, thanks to Frigidaire, an irreverent satirical magazine that combined subversive comics, performance art, stunts, activism, and political and cultural reportage. During the 1980s the heroes of this publication were two amazing artists: Stefano Tamburini and Andrea Pazienza. I fell in love with their collages and drawings, with their visual language and imagination. That magazine was my school, the ultimate frontier of my imagination and outlet for my ardor.
Later on, I studied philosophy, art history, and archeology. To tell you the truth, I didn’t have a sudden epiphany at one exhibition in particular. Let’s say that during the 1990s, several editions of the Venice Biennial were very important to me. And the magazine Flash Art, of course. So I ended up being a curator. But sometimes I think I might have been better – and happier – as an archaeologist.
LŠ: You hold a degree in archaeology - did you ever work in the field?
AB: Well, when I was 13 – around the time I was reading Frigidaire – I used to take walks in the countryside near San Felice Circeo (south of Rome) looking for Paleolithic stone tools. It was amazing for me to be able to find those tools on the ground and to classify them according to certain methods. I was mesmerized by the idea that I was touching objects made by the Neanderthal (the Mousterian industry) 70,000 years ago or made by the early Homo sapiens, who arrived in Europe 50,000 years ago. For me, this distant past was vertiginous. I was extremely interested in understanding the history of human migrations. My questions were basically the classic ones we all ask ourselves: Who are we? Where do we come from? And where are we going? That’s why I later decided to study prehistoric archeology in Florence. And, yes, for a while I took part in excavation campaigns at several Italian caves – in particular at Grotta del Romito (Calabria).
L'arte paleolitica e mesolitica in Italia, where Bellini contributed essay on prehistoric art. Image courtesy of the curator.
LŠ: In the early 2000s, you were the editor-in-chief of Flash Art International, a publishing house established in 1967 by Giancarlo Politi and Helena Kontova. You were in charge of the magazine’s international edition. What initially drew you to the role? What changes were you keen to implement?
AB: When Giancarlo Politi proposed that I go to New York, I didn’t have any doubts. Italy felt like a prison to me at the time. I couldn’t work. I couldn’t curate. I couldn’t create anything. Now it’s a little bit different, but thirty years ago the contemporary art system in Italy was very small; it was literally occupied by strong personalities like Germano Celant and Achille Bonito Oliva. They didn’t like the idea of creating room for other curators. They wanted it all. In a sense, it was a rather violent and humanly painful environment. That’s why I left for New York City. The move saved my life. Being chief editor of Flash Art in NYC was like being given a master key: I could do all the studio visits I wanted and talk with anyone, including established, even legendary artists. I learned many things and very fast. I tried to give the magazine something special – like the “N.Y. Tales,” which came out every three months: comprehensive articles about what was going on in New York. I also used to choose which exhibitions we would focus on. I was also interested in choosing very young collaborators, often artists. In 2004, one of them was Jordan Wolfson.
LŠ: What are your thoughts on museums publishing their own magazines?
AB: If they have their own readers, why not? A magazine can be a way to help the audience understand what the institution does.
LŠ: How do you see the future of art publishing? You often mention that your method of approaching existing models is that of evolution rather than revolution.
AB: To be honest, I don’t know what the future of art publishing could be. There’s been a lot of talk about the crises in art criticism. There are several problems – that’s for sure. I find it more and more difficult to read art magazines today. There are fewer and fewer really good articles – and that also includes negative reviews. The job is very poorly paid, and very often writers are (or want to be) curators, so they pay more attention to their career strategies rather than to honest art criticism. But when you write, if you want to be interesting, you also have to be ruthless. And in order to do that, you have to start by being yourself – that means being distinct from (rather than conniving with) the curator you’re writing about. But this is really a very complex topic that deserves much more space than I can give it here.
LŠ: During your time as curatorial advisor at MoMA PS1, you took over the direction of Artissima fair in Turin, one of the rare, publicly funded commercial art events. Today it is hard to imagine international art fairs without the educational program – artists’ or curators’ talks, film screenings, and so on – yet you were one of the first curators to expand the educational offerings and, with that, the identity of commercial art events. It would be great to revisit the Italian arts scene around 2007. Why was Turin the right place for implementing changes to this art system? Were there other art fairs you admired at the time, and why?
AB: Yes, I think I was actually the first curator to run an art fair. I was living in NYC at the time. I was young, I had energy, passion, and no fear. I think Turin was ready for that storm. Those three years –2007–09 – were mind-blowing, a kind of performance for me. Even on paper, the job wasn’t at all easy. There wasn’t a very strong art market in Turin (certainly not like the one in Basel), and many galleries participating at the fair would complain about sales and never come back. So I radically reduced the number of galleries and tried to be uncompromising about their quality. I also tried to focus on galleries working with emerging and young artists. And then I created a busy program of events, some of which lasted the whole year: lectures, concerts, performance cycles, film programs, exhibitions in the city – even an art school inside the art fair.
I tried to make the fair more than just a market for contemporary art. It was a wonderful experience for me, but a temporary one: I had decided to do three years and then move on. I don’t like the sort of film whose ending is clear from the beginning.
LŠ: During your tenure, two unique additions to Artissima were Accecare l’ascolto [Blinding the ears], a program of performances, concerts and happenings produced by the fair, and the partnership with Club to Club, a music festival run by Sergio Ricciardone. What made you decide to make concerts and theater a vital part of an art fair?
AB: Ever since coming to Turin from New York, I was aware that the fair alone would not be enough to attract collectors and crowds of visitors. More than selling the fair, I thought I had to sell the city of Turin – to sell an organic experience made up of contemporary art, architecture, music, and even food. Turin is a fabulous city. Many people are aware of this now, but that wasn’t the case 25 years ago. Also: I think of culture as something organic. When music, art, dance, and performance are offered all together, they ensure a total and unforgettable experience.
LŠ: You also expanded the fair’s editorial presence (via a newspaper) and exhibition activity. Tell us more about your vision for both.
AB: Yes, we created a newspaper, Radio Sick – the idea for the name came from Maurizio Cattelan – and then an exhibition program, too. We brought a very young Ryan Trecartin to Turin for a residency in 2007, when he was almost unknown in Europe. We also organized exhibitions of design, photography, comics and concerts.
Andrea Bellini in conversation with artist and film-maker Irene Dionisio at the presentation of the BIM’18 catalog at Artissima. Courtesy of Centre d'Art Contemporain Genève.
LŠ: You and Stéphanie Moisdon conceived a temporary school within the fair. It would be great to hear about how you brainstormed together.
AB: I had seen Stephanie’s school at the Paris Triennale, if I’m not mistaken, and was impressed. I proposed repeating the experience in Turin. Even today the idea of a temporary art school within a commercial event seems slightly crazy to me. But 16 years ago, it was a great success: amazing artists like Tino Sehgal and Roberto Cuoghi came to speak. It was really something special. The school was designed by Pierre Joseph and was modular, constantly changing.
I benefited from being able to collaborate with friends and colleagues like Cecilia Alemani, Susanne Pfeffer, Nicola Bourriaud, Hans-Ulrich Obrist, Beatrix Ruf, Francesco Manacorda, Nicolas Bourriad, Anton Vidokle, Andrea Viliani, and many others. I would really like to emphasize that: those almost mythical three editions of Artissima were the result of collective work.
LŠ: How have you found Artissima’s trajectory since your departure?
AB: All of the directors of Artissima since me have been curators. Francesco Manacorda took over the fair when I left for Castello di Rivoli. He is now the director at Castello di Rivoli, and Luigi Fassi (another curator) is now heading Artissima. I continue to believe in the Turin fair and the city, even if – for me – the era we are talking about now belongs in the distant past (laugh).
LŠ: Do you think we currently have too many art fairs?
AB: I don’t want to fall into the trap of saying there are too many fairs, too many biennials, too many exhibitions. It’s not for me to judge that kind of thing. If they exist, there must be a reason for them. And when the reason disappears, they will cease to exist. Why worry about it?
LŠ: Since 2013 you have been director of the Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève, an institution established by Adelina von Fürstenberg that operates as a Kunsthalle. What attracted you to the role after your time at Castello di Rivoli (contemporary art museum in Turin)?
AB: I left Rivoli in June 2012, right after opening a fabulous exhibition by Thomas Schutte. I left for a number of reasons. Let’s just say that the conditions there did not foster working peacefully.
Working for the Centre d’Art Contemporain has been an amazing new adventure for me. It is a relatively small institution (compared to Castello di Rivoli) but also runs an important biennial [the Biennale de l’image en movement, BIM], for which it has a good budget. As with the art fair, I tried to reinvent the institution. I thought that it was not enough for a Kunsthalle to just show young artists, so I started to organize rediscovery exhibitions (I believe that contributing to rewriting art history is a very important mission for an institution today) and to publish scholarly catalogs. I created an artist residency program, an independent cinema with its own programming, Cinema Dynamo. And then – something I am very proud of – I turned the Biennale into a production platform.
American Artist, Yannis Window, 2024. Sculptural projection, single-channel 4K video with sound, 21’32’’. Courtesy of the artist & Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève for BIM’24.
Lauren Lee McCarthy, Saliva Retreat, 2024. Digital video, 43’; Scenography conceived by Formafantasma; Courtesy of the artists & Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève for BIM’24.
Emmanuel Van der Auwera, VideoSculpture XXX (The Gospel), 2024.Video installation, 17' 53’’. A coproduction of Fonds cantonal d'art contemporain de Genève (FCAC) and Centre d'Art Contemporain Genève for the Mire program and BIM’24, with the support of Fonds d'art contemporain de la Ville de Genève (FMAC) and the Fédération Wallonie-Bruxelles. Courtesy of the artist, Harlan Levey Projects & Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève for BIM’24.
LŠ: Which colleagues and mentors have been most influential to you in your career?
AB: That’s a tough question. I’ve always trusted my instincts and sought to follow my passions and my own ideas. But many curators have my deepest respect. I admire Hans Ulrich Obrist most of all, for intellectual and human reasons. He is indefatigable. His personality reconciles the poet and the power person, the intellectual and the artist. He is also very generous, kind, and respectful. He is like a sacrificial body on the altar of art. He has all my esteem and admiration.
LŠ: When you came to Geneva, you also took over the Biennale de l’Image en Mouvement (BIM) – which was created by the Centre pour l’image contemporaine in 1985 and managed by them until 2007. Three artists had conceived the biennial during a workshop. You already mentioned that you drew on that original identity when establishing a new model for it: that of an active production platform.
AB: When I got to Geneva, everyone expected me to relaunch the biennial, which I considered a challenge worth taking on. It was a strange time for me. I was getting a bit fed up with the central role of curators. And I was terribly bored with all the big thematic biennials of the day. The main puzzle was: would audiences want to come to Geneva to see works that they could also view on their computers?
Then I had the idea of turning the biennial into a production platform. That meant commissioning and producing all the works. I asked the co-curators to select the artists while at the same time taking a step back from setting themes for the projects – in fact, without imposing any theme on the artists at all. I also wrote a protocol for the overall project, a sort of ethics: invite the artists two years before the opening; give them carte blanche in producing the work; and above all, encourage them to conceive ambitious installations. The inaugural edition, BIM ’14, was a big success. And ten years later, I have to say that the protocol remains highly relevant. It ensures that we produce very special biennales every time, with new works and immersive installations.
Basel Abbas & Ruanne Abou-Rahme, Postscript: After everything is extracted, 2021-2024. Three-channel installation, 21’. Courtesy of the artists & Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève for BIM’24.
Interspecifics, Codex Virtualis_ EMERGENCE 0.1 2023-2024. 6-channel semi-generative audiovisual installation, variable duration. Courtesy of the artist & Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève for BIM’24.
Interspecifics, Codex Virtualis_ EMERGENCE 0.1 2023-2024. 6-channel semi-generative audiovisual installation, variable duration. Courtesy of the artist & Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève for BIM’24.
LŠ: Each edition also involves a different co-curator. How do you choose the curators to work with?
AB: Geneva’s BIM differs greatly from all other biennials in this sense, too. In Venice, for example, each curator starts from scratch and forges his / her / their own statement. In Geneva,on the other hand, I invite co-curators with very specific interests each time. I want each edition to explore different aspects of the contemporary moving image. In this sense, we construct (from a curatorial point of view) a kind of meta-discourse around the medium.
LŠ: Which edition did you personally find the most interesting and why?
AB: I’ve loved all five editions I’ve been involved with so far – for different reasons. The guidelines we set for supporting the artists work incredibly well. So in one way or another, each edition teaches us something new and shows us something extraordinary. You see, the problem for me lay precisely in this: when we compose an exhibition as curators, we necessarily operate within our knowledge and therefore with precise limits. I wanted to invent an exhibition protocol that could astonish and teach something – especially to those of us who were building it. If you think about it, doing a biennial exclusively with new productions means that we don’t even know the works that will be exhibited until the day before the opening. In short, it means entrusting the artists completely, asking them to show us new directions and to tell us stories that we have never encountered before. If we want to astonish the public, we have to start by astonishing ourselves.
LŠ: I was interested by the remark you made (laugh) about being bored with curators, that they take up too much of the available space. How do you think “the balance” can be restored?
AB: Of course, it’s not my mission to restore balance to the curatorial world. Fortunately, I think there is room for everyone and all points of view in the art system. Everyone essentially does what they want, according to their own sensitivity, their own culture. There is room for everyone in the art world, thank goodness. In the end, everyone is free to work independently; in any case, every game lasts as long as it can.