Vincenzo Agnetti – Mostra Premio Pascali 1973 | Interview with Germana Agnetti and Gaspare Luigi Marcone on the occasion of the exhibition at the Pino Pascali Foundation in Puglia.

Alessandra Costantiello, for her column “ContrAppunti,” presents a double interview on the occasion of the exhibition “Vincenzo Agnetti – 1973 Pascali Prize Exhibition,” curated by Gaspare Luigi Marcone and on view at the Pino Pascali Foundation through 27th September.

Questions for Gaspare Luigi Marcone

1. The display as a time machine: Reconstructing an exhibition fifty years later (1973-2023/2026) always oscillates between philology and reinvention. With what criteria did you translate the exhibition space of the 1973 Pascali Prize into the current architecture of the Foundation? What spatial or conceptual compromises were necessary?

Gaspare Luigi Marcone: In my projects on artists or historical contexts, I always seek a harmony between philology, archival research, and a poetic-imaginative inspiration. However, each project must live on its own specific and autonomous characteristics, which are always different. In this case, despite knowing the features of the spaces of the Pinacoteca di Bari where Agnetti's exhibition was set up in 1973, it seemed congenial to start from the genius loci of the Pascali Foundation in Polignano; three quadrangular rooms, to which are added two smaller areas, clean and essential, with the large central room looking out onto the immensity of the sea—a sea that in turn becomes an aesthetic, ethical, and for some, rightly, even a political dimension. Given this "score", it was only a matter of positioning the "notes" in the right way to obtain a symphony that would enhance the quality of the works on display.

2. The relevance of the Axiom: Agnetti worked on the reduction of language, on emptiness, on suspended time. In an era dominated by digital hyper-visibility and image saturation, how does Agnetti's conceptual work resonate within the contemporary Apulian context? And within the contemporary scene in general?

Gaspare Luigi Marcone: I would prefer not to indulge in any sermons on communication theory with sociological or political overtones. I can only say that there are two emblematic works in the exhibition: 14 proposizioni (14 Propositions, 1972)—telegrams that Agnetti sent to himself—and Autotelefonata (Self-phone call, 1972)—five photographs where the artist creates a short circuit, including a visual one, between call and response. It is no coincidence that both works were also exhibited at Documenta in Kassel in 1972. The sensitivity and imagination of certain artists become prophetic. These aspects concern the general contemporary situation upon which Agnetti operated critically. Just to mention a few examples: Agnetti's sentences are essential and lapidary, much like many types of language used in today's communication media; they brush against a certain narcissism, or loneliness, or self-centered attitudes, upon which Agnetti sometimes ironizes and at other times problematizes in an innovative way; he understands the importance of the means of communication, leading up to the absolute metamorphosis of language itself, which in many works shifts from alphabetical language to "numerical language". From Puglia to the world and vice versa—given that Agnetti traveled and lived across American, Scandinavian, and Arab countries—his research remains consistently relevant and intriguing.

3. The reactivated archive: This exhibition is based on dense archival excavation work. From a curatorial point of view, how do you avoid the risk of a "nostalgia effect", instead transforming period documents (photos, reviews, correspondence) into living critical devices for the visitor?

Gaspare Luigi Marcone: Some elements are partly described in the first answer. If we want to stick to the concept of "excavation work", even the work of an archaeologist—beyond the foundational scientific methodologies—requires a certain amount of imagination or fantasy. One must treasure an Agnettian phrase that criticizes "embalmers". Furthermore, the artist himself often exhibited his works differently depending on the space; an emblematic case is precisely the Progetto per un Amleto politico (Project for a Political Hamlet, 1973), which consistently takes shape in different ways. In this case, curatorial creativity is crucial to "stage"—never was a term more appropriate—the scenic layout of this work, which Agnetti calls "static theater".

Questions for Germana Agnetti

1) The return to Puglia: "In 1973, your father won the Pascali Prize, a recognition tied to a land that, at the time, was painstakingly building its outposts for contemporary art. What memory or what traces of that Apulian experience remain in the family archive and in your father's stories?"

Germana Agnetti: For my father, winning the Pascali Prize in 1972 was a key event, a recognition of the importance of his work at a moment when he was still at the dawn of his career. Let us remember, in fact, that in '72 he had only begun exhibiting three and a half years prior. Within the family, we perceived it with enthusiasm, as a psychological launching pad that consolidated the friendships already formed with important critics such as Tommaso Trini and Daniela Palazzoli. When the exhibition at the Pinacoteca di Bari was organized the following year, a season of intense and feverish work opened up for my father, of which the Pascali Prize was a fundamental building block.

2) The archive between private and public: "As the director of the Archivio Agnetti, you find yourself daily managing the boundary between intimate, filial memory and the need to make this documentation a public heritage accessible to scientific research. How do you experience this double role of custodian and disseminator?"

Germana Agnetti: Boundaries are always artificial and naturally arbitrary. I remember that when I was little, my father and I used to play a game where we spoke in a completely invented language, incomprehensible except for the tones we used: calm, excited, friendly, angry. When I saw the Amleto Politico (Political Hamlet) for the first time twenty years later and listened to its monologue, the memory of that game immediately flashed back to my mind, gifting me an understanding of the work that could not be separated from those childhood experiences. Just like back then, the meaning of the words was zeroed out, yet made vibrant and rich with meaning through the intonation of the voice. That is where the boundary lies—a very permeable boundary. Regarding the double role of custodian and disseminator, they are two sides of the same coin. If you safeguard something important, it is necessary to conserve and preserve it with rigor and fidelity. Then, the drive for research kicks in, which leads to sharing and prompts further questions. All of this lies at the foundation of dissemination.

3) Conserving the invisible: "A large part of Agnetti's work is based on immaterial concepts, on thought and on the word. What is the greatest challenge in conserving and protecting a conceptual art archive compared to an archive of purely plastic or pictorial works?"

Germana Agnetti: Thought and the word are immaterial assets, but they are also matter. This is my father's challenge: translating thought into matter. Let us take Libro dimenticato a memoria (Book Forgotten by Heart): what could be more immaterial than forgetting by heart? It is a concept that is not only immaterial but also elusive. Where is the thought that we have forgotten? Where is the memory of that forgotten thought? And can it be translated into matter? My father answers with a book emptied of the written word, and that emptiness sucks in our gaze, catapulting us into another universe where the invisible becomes the protagonist. Returning to the trade of archiving, first and foremost we have his writings. Then, it is a matter of conserving the work in its plasticity while simultaneously presenting what lies behind it—that is, the thought, which thanks to the work realizes itself as visible matter. Furthermore, my father wanted his works to trigger new thoughts and reflections within the observer. This is perhaps the most difficult part; we are trying to achieve this through dialogues with other artists as well. We are convinced that the gaze of contemporaries on the works of the past can sometimes reveal the involuntary testimonies of which Ginzburg speaks.

A question for both

4) The concept of 'Translation': "Agnetti used to say that 'the conceptual operation is a translation'. If you had to choose just one work or a single document in the exhibition that, better than any other, represents the 'translation' of Agnetti's thought for new generations of visitors, which one would you choose and why?"

Gaspare Luigi Marcone: If we wanted to "play conceptually" with words, following the Agnettian style, it would be intriguing to think about the translation/tradition pairing. In this case, the Amleto politico remains emblematic, where verbal language is translated into numerical language, with an "ecumenical" spirit that transcends different languages, rhythmically punctuated by the artist's wonderful voice which can be heard in the exhibition. The centuries-old tradition of the Shakespearean character is the protagonist of a total subversion (or "betrayal"?).

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Germana Agnetti: For my father, translating means going to the root of phenomena and making their essence visible. It is a device of subtraction of what is not essential, cutting across different cultures and historical contingencies. Let us look, for example, at Tutta la storia dell’arte è in questi tre lavori (All the History of Art is in These Three Works). How do I translate the path of art history into essential and universal moments? How do I make them visible so that the observer can reconstruct their salient aspects, inflecting them on the basis of memories and experiences? The answer is a panel with three elements representing three topical periods. For the archaic: an engraved stone; it is the tension of leaving a strong mark, capable of remaining. For the classical: a detail of a seventeenth-century palace where, at the corners of a relief sculpture, Agnetti places a numbering in letters, as if it were a solfeggio indication; classicism is translated into its essence as a search for perfection and the integration among the arts. For the contemporary: just a few numbers. 1 2 3 4 represent the labor-time of artistic production, but they also refer to the seriality, dissemination, and multiplication that characterize our era.