The Costumes series began with the pumpkin and is still ongoing today. It draws inspiration from real plant forms that exhibit anthropomorphic traits, with the aim of associating them with fantastical creatures and creating disguise garments tailored to their silhouettes.
The Costumes series began with the pumpkin and is still ongoing today. It draws inspiration from real plant forms that exhibit anthropomorphic traits, with the aim of associating them with fantastical creatures and creating disguise garments tailored to their silhouettes.The Costumes series began with the pumpkin and is still ongoing today. It draws inspiration from real plant forms that exhibit anthropomorphic traits, with the aim of associating them with fantastical creatures and creating disguise garments tailored to their silhouettes.The Costumes series began with the pumpkin and is still ongoing today. It draws inspiration from real plant forms that exhibit anthropomorphic traits, with the aim of associating them with fantastical creatures and creating disguise garments tailored to their silhouettes.The Costumes series began with the pumpkin and is still ongoing today. It draws inspiration from real plant forms that exhibit anthropomorphic traits, with the aim of associating them with fantastical creatures and creating disguise garments tailored to their silhouettes.
Anthropomorphism is the tendency to attribute human characteristics to imaginary figures, animals, and objects.
Anthropomorphism is a form of speciesist domination that masks the history of the anthropomorphized subject.
Anthropomorphism is a form of appropriation of the subject being represented, capable of altering its very essence.
Parco Sempione is a very popular park in Milan, where people stroll and lie on the ground. The only untouched areas are the water features, small streams, and artificial ponds located in the middle of the park, inhabited only by a few species of birds and koi carp.
From one of these, a large hand seemed to emerge, clinging to the bank in an attempt to get out of the water. It was a partially submerged log, now rotten from moisture, with five broken branches resembling the fingers of a hand. The water reflected the protruding part, amplifying its presence and distorting its shape.
It was November and the pumpkin was floating in a small canal that runs through the center of Milan, known locally as the Naviglio, one of many that crisscross the city. It didn’t seem to have been stuck there for long, although a good deal of vegetation had gathered around it. Acquatic plants had wrapped around its round shape, giving it the appearance of a head nestled in warm fur, while long green strands extended with the current, transforming the vegetable into an anthropomorphic body.
The anthropomorphic pumpkin seemed to be in a state of temporary rest, as if waiting to rise. My mind began to imagine its movement: how its steps would look and where it might go. But after imagining it standing up, I realized it would never begin to move, and that it didn’t need me.
I had no story to tell about this character, because it was already telling its own. Its presence was its story.
There it was, in the center of Milan, wrapped in thick, spontaneous vegetation. The space it occupied was unstable and temporary. Its stay in that small canal was fleeting and unpredictable. The only thing I could do was to fix its image in that moment, and imagine a space to dedicate to it.
Its appearance recalled a fantastical creature, which led me to think of disguise, of how a garment can act as a container for bodies, and how it allows us to define portions of space. I designed a custom-made costume for the anthropomorphic pumpkin and searched for fabrics that echoed its colors and textures. I crafted the disguise and closed it with a zipper.
It was November and the pumpkin was floating in a small canal that runs through the center of Milan, known locally as the Naviglio, one of many that crisscross the city. It didn’t seem to have been stuck there for long, although a good deal of vegetation had gathered around it. Acquatic plants had wrapped around its round shape, giving it the appearance of a head nestled in warm fur, while long green strands extended with the current, transforming the vegetable into an anthropomorphic body.
The anthropomorphic pumpkin seemed to be in a state of temporary rest, as if waiting to rise. My mind began to imagine its movement: how its steps would look and where it would go. But after imagining it standing up, I realized it would never begin to move, and that it didn’t need me.
I had no story to tell about this character, because it was already telling its own. Its presence was its story.
There it was, in the center of Milan, wrapped in thick, spontaneous vegetation. The space it occupied was unstable and temporary. Its stay in that small canal was fleeting and unpredictable. The only thing I could do was to fix its image in that moment, and imagine a space where it could remain.
The fact that its appearance resembled a fantastical creature led me to imagine it as a disguise, identifying the space within the costume as a place of permanence. I thought about how a garment can serve as a container for bodies and how it allows us to define portions of space. I designed a custom-made costume for the anthropomorphic pumpkin and looked for fabrics that matched its colors and texture.
It was November and the pumpkin was floating in a small canal that runs through the center of Milan, known locally as the Naviglio, one of many that crisscross the city. It didn’t seem to have been stuck there for long, although a good deal of vegetation had gathered around it. Acquatic plants had wrapped around its round shape, giving it the appearance of a head nestled in warm fur, while long green strands extended with the current, transforming the vegetable into an anthropomorphic body.
The anthropomorphic pumpkin seemed to be in a state of temporary rest, as if waiting to rise. My mind began to imagine its movement: how its steps would look and where it might go. But after imagining it standing up, I realized it would never begin to move, and that it didn’t need me.
I had no story to tell about this character, because it was already telling its own. Its presence was its story.
There it was, in the center of Milan, wrapped in thick, spontaneous vegetation. The space it occupied was unstable and temporary. Its stay in that small canal was fleeting and unpredictable. The only thing I could do was to fix its image in that moment, and imagine a space to dedicate to it.
Its appearance recalled a fantastical creature, which led me to think of disguise, of how a garment can act as a container for bodies, and how it allows us to define portions of space. I designed a custom-made costume for the anthropomorphic pumpkin and searched for fabrics that echoed its colors and textures. I crafted the disguise and closed it with a zipper.
It was November and the pumpkin was floating in a small canal that runs through the center of Milan, known locally as the Naviglio, one of many that crisscross the city. It didn’t seem to have been stuck there for long, although a good deal of vegetation had gathered around it. Acquatic plants had wrapped around its round shape, giving it the appearance of a head nestled in warm fur, while long green strands extended with the current, transforming the vegetable into an anthropomorphic body.
The anthropomorphic pumpkin seemed to be in a state of temporary rest, as if waiting to rise. My mind began to imagine its movement: how its steps would look and where it might go. But after imagining it standing up, I realized it would never begin to move, and that it didn’t need me.
I had no story to tell about this character, because it was already telling its own. Its presence was its story.
There it was, in the center of Milan, wrapped in thick, spontaneous vegetation. The space it occupied was unstable and temporary. Its stay in that small canal was fleeting and unpredictable. The only thing I could do was to fix its image in that moment, and imagine a space to dedicate to it.
Its appearance recalled a fantastical creature, which led me to think of disguise, of how a garment can act as a container for bodies, and how it allows us to define portions of space. I designed a custom-made costume for the anthropomorphic pumpkin and searched for fabrics that echoed its colors and textures. I crafted the disguise and closed it with a zipper.
