Franco Maria Ricci

Parma, Italy, 2018

Text by John White
and Franco Maria Ricci


Did you originally purpose the labyrinth to be a museum for people to visit?

When the labyrinth project was born, it was a private matter. I wanted to leave something of myself to the land that had nourished and enriched my family; like the gentleman Vicino Orsini, who translated his solitary fantasies into the Park of Monsters in Bomarzo, or like Vespasiano Gonzaga, who died in Sabbioneta, in the heart of his unfinished dream made of stone.
As time passed, that initial idea was, for the most part, transformed. Now, I've come to think of my enterprise above all as a legacy—as a way of giving back to the Po Valley, which includes Parma, and to its countryside and nearby cities.

Portrait of Franco Maria Ricci on his Jaguar in the 1960s in Piazza Duomo in Parma. Credits: Ugo Mulas

Where did the idea come to have a pyramid at the end? In a way, it seems like a temple.

For the pyramid, and for all the buildings, I turned to the great architects who lived during the French Revolution: Boullée, Ledoux, Lequeu, but also the Italian architect Antolini, who presented Napoleon with a visionary project for the Foro Bonaparte in Milan.

Undoubtedly due to circumstances, none of these men have left us with great buildings; however, drawings and projects, dictated by a love of geometry, Egypt, the Greek and Roman world, and a visionary talent, nurtured 
by the Utopias of the age in which they lived, remind us that neoclassicism was not the classical, but, rather, fertile ground for the modern. That repertoire of shapes continues to serve as models for a new architecture, the knowing heir to a long past.

The pyramid is meant to be a chapel, even if it's not sacred yet. And there is a labyrinth on the floor, just like in the French medieval cathedral, as a symbol of faith and as a reminder of the tortuous path that every man has to walk through to reach Eternal Deliverance.

There was a collection that seemed to all have the theme of mortality (skulls, scrolls, epitaphs), how did you find these artifacts and why did you keep them?

I was still a young man when I first became attracted to these themes, constant in art. I was always wandering around art fairs, like the one in Maastricht or the one in Parma, and always looking for them in the catalogs of the main auction houses.

My purpose was to form a Wunderkammer, a place born to arouse wonder. Wonder that here is also a feeling of unease owing to the many symbolic representations linked to the fragility of life, the so-called Vanitas.

What do you think about religious art and architecture?

Undoubtedly, they're a fundamental part of Italian and European art history, and most of the time they hide true masterpieces. Sometimes, labyrinths too! Like in the Cathedral of Chartres or in Amiens, France or Ravenna and Lucca in Italy.

I read somewhere that you had wanted to be a geologist, but changed your mind? Did you ever feel uncertainty in your career choices?

At first I wanted to be an archaelogist, to tell the truth. Then, I graduated to geology but later, you know, I ended up doing a totally different job.

I don’t regret my choices, even if sometimes they were risky or really ambitious, like the decision to reprint the Encyclopédie by D’Alembert and Diderot. I was lucky, because my taste for beauty always helped me make decisions.

Do you think it's important to read any specific books?

I think it's still important to read the fundamental classical texts: from Homerus to Borges, and Dante, Calvino, Joyce…

What books are on your bedside table lately? What’s it about?

I'm always working on new projects and I usually read a lot of books to prepare them.
The last ones I read were all about the city of Mantua and the Gonzaga dynasty, because the last volume I worked on is Mantua Classical Utopia (we're printing the English version too), with texts from some of the most important experts on Mantua’s art and architecture and photographs of the most beautiful places of the city. ⁑



Until 12/8/18
Edit by
Luis Alaman

Christopher Lux

San Fransisco, 2016

Text by John White
and Chris Lux

Okay, let’s start at the beginning, I’d like to just know something about your background, childhood, family, where you’re from, even where your distant family is from?

I’m from San Francisco. I was born and raised here. My family heritage is a mix of different parts of Europe (my mother is half Italian).
What is San Fransisco like?

After the earthquake in ‘89, the city became a playground for the next ten years: tents everywhere, abandoned buildings, skateboarding on abandoned freeways.

Detail of The Star Husbands, 2014 

What are your influences?

The difference with a lot of that 1990’s work, was that it was influenced by things outside of art: graffiti, punk, train hopping, hobo stuff, et cetera... very anti “high” art stuff. Whereas I was primarily influenced by art history as basis for my own work. I don’t know, I was into copying other pieces of art from the past. I still am, I think.

Detail of The Rolling Heads, 2014

Which ones more than others?

I really respond to the work of artists like Bob Thompson, Jacob Lawrence and Jan Müller. And other artists who mixed graphic, flat elements with loose painterly brush strokes in figurative paintings.

In sculpture, I am much more loose and I like the work of Ruby Neri, Rebecca Warren and Josephine Meckseper.
What are your plans for hereafter?

My immediate plans after I’m done with shows at the end of the year is to take a week off.

All content is copyright Avenue and the authors.

EDITOR John White
MEDIA PROGRAM Elizabeth Morina
MANAGING EDITOR David Montgomery
FASHION EDITOR Hollie Van Osenbruggen
PARIS EDITOR Marguerite de Ponty
DESIGN 11 1/2