Conversations: Sigifredo di Canossa
Mini-snap from David Hockney 25
I met Monaco-based Italian art collector and patron Sigifredo di Canossa at the Fondation Louis Vuitton in Paris in early May. During our visit of David Hockney 25 we spoke about the psychology of the private museum founder, breaking with tradition as someone who grew up in an art collecting family and how once very risque artists of the 1960s and 1970s have become friendly household names. Our conversation was part of a series of interviews in the context of a research project exploring the dynamics of (private) museum interaction with the art market and contemporary iterations of arts patronage.
LW: Let’s get you started with something fairly easy: what made you start collecting art?
Sigifredo: That is easy. I grew up in an environment where contemporary and modern art was a big no-no: my parents hated it and of course that shapes your perceptions. One day a good friend of mine who was a gallerist sort of put a gun to my head and she said “It’s time for you to start collecting.” I knew absolutely nothing - and I mean nothing - about contemporary art. Anyway, bought a Rotella to start with because she kind of cornered me into it. Which, by the way, I found out he was a very good friend of my son in law. So I bought the Rotella and I started going to art fairs with this book that I would use to cross-reference what I saw and go “Ok, there are three cuts in this canvas, that’s Fontana.” At the start I was basically memorising who the artists were and then slowly but surely I build a deeper understanding. That’s when the passion and curiosity came in. I’m not one of those collectors that say they only collect this one very specific thing and it has to be precisely x, y and z. No, I buy what I like. If I can buy it.
LW: And it took you a while to feel more comfortable in the art world. I remember your background was in finance?
Sigifredo: I was in banking. It took me a while to really get into it but to be honest, I liked the art world a lot more back then than I do today. There’s too much bouncing around from fair to fair, too much hype around certain artists. It’s a lot. I still love engaging with art and traveling for it but I’ve committed to a maximum of three fairs per year. Back then I was really drawn in by the art world but I was also very naïve. People were extremely kind and welcoming but for all the wrong reasons – maybe I’m generalising here. I do have great relationships with some dealers that feel genuine. David Nahmad for example, we have a very good personal relationship. I love the people at Continua and Ben Brown he’s a dear friend of mine. I feel confident we could handle a sailing trip together. But to circle back, I am less naïve than I used to be about the majority of characters you meet in the art world.
I grew up with the idea that art is very much baked into every facet of life. Just not contemporary art.
LW: How did you find your way into acting as a patron? You told me about a project where you worked with Beck & Eggeling?
Sigifredo: Yes, Beck & Eggeling were showing a work by Heinz Mack at a fair in Bologna that I liked a lot but felt too expensive for me. So I waited for a year only to find out it had gotten even more expensive as the interest in the Zero Group was growing at the time. I then decided it’s now or never, went to Düsseldorf to see Michael Beck to buy the work and he invited me to a dinner where I was sat next to Heinz Mack. We had this great conversation and I asked him “Maestro, what is your dream?” and he told me about a project with the Pergamon Museum in Berlin which never took off for different reasons. He wanted to install The Sky Over Nine Columns infront of San Marco square. I told him, in a very unfiltered way, not knowing much about him, that that was a terrible idea. Even at nine metres the columns would disappear in the hustle and bustle of the square. “It’s really an awful place, millions of people, the pigeons, the children, people selling fake handbags. Put it infront of San Giorgio church.” We then sat down with Michael Beck and came up with a plan to finance the production…and it may very well have been one of the best times of my life (laughs).
It was exciting, we found local artisans who could produce the components, we organised the shipping of materials, we put together this whole team of people working on the project. That was in 2014. And then we took the installation to Istanbul, to Valencia and to St. Moritz. And then we sold two editions. So to answer your question: it started by chance, over a dinner conversation. I went to visit Heinz in his beautiful home in Mönchengladbach several times, where he housed this superb collection. I was very taken by his fascination with light, open spaces, his travel to the Sahara. All of that spoke to me.
LW: It all resonated with you and does sound like the level of involvement with the art provided the biggest thrill.
Sigifredo: Yes, plus Michael Beck, who I initially met as a gallerist, became one of my best friends in the process. This year for example we spent New Years together at Tegernsee.
LW: Oh I miss Tegernsee!
I don’t think galleries today could do what they did in the 60s and 70s. Buying an entire collection at one quarter of the price because nobody knew what the price was.
LW: There are two types of art collectors: there are those that get into it a little later in life and then there are those that grew up with it. Collecting was part of your family tradition wasn’t it?
Sigifredo: Yes, I lived “in” art, since I was born.
LW: But no contemporary or modern art.
Sigifredo: No and it’s really a shame because if my parents had poured just a tiny fraction of their passion for collecting into contemporary art they would have built a beautiful collection. Back when Palazzo Grassi was owned by the Agnelli Family they invited us to preview the first exhibition of Andy Warhol in Europe. I remember this scene very vividly: my parents looking in absolute horror at an image of a car crash from his Death & Disaster series while our hosts insisted my father should get in and buy now since he was “going to be a great success.” My parents had dedicated themselves to collecting old master works that today are valued at very little, but they were passionate.
So I grew up with the idea that art is very much baked into every facet of life. Just not contemporary art. One of the big reasons for this was that contemporary art in the 50s, 60s. 70s was very leftist. In Italy all the artists, the Arte Povera movement, were communists. So there was simply no dialogue. I don’t think my parents ever went to the Biennale. For political reasons. My parents in law lived in Rome and were very social and when I asked them if they knew Franco Angeli or Mario Schifano the told me they would not talk to them. These artists were taking drugs, they were communists, they were living a life that appeared quite controversial at the time. It’s not like today. The people that bought their work back then…it required a level of dedication.
LW: They certainly had unconventional taste.
Sigifredo: Today a lot of people buying art are doing so because it’s an asset class, which is a shame. Also, you go to some people’s homes and can tell, this is a Gagosian house, this is a Hauser house… I’m going to say something and I’m going to say it in the worst possible place (sitting in the FLV bar) but I think mixing fashion and art like this is one of the worst things that could have happened to art (laughs). At the biennale everything revolved around the Pinault parties, the Louis Vuitton this and that, it had very little to do with any genuine interest in art and going to visit the little corner gallery just to pop your head in and see what they’re up to. I do think there’s a bit of a stronger backlash to this now though.
LW: Because it may have reached it’s tipping point. For one, the financialisation of the art world is on steriods and Arte Povera because you just mentioned it, is a great example of how something has lost it’s edge. We’re more concious of these shifts now.
Sigifredo: Fist of all I think that the world has changed enormously. When Arte Povera came around, the artists would all go out together. Similarly, when I started taking an interest in Formula One, we were going out the with pilots. Today both of these scenarios are highly unlikely. tIt’s all so competitive. Also the amount of money that is circulating has increased and so has the number of people collecting. At the time there were maybe 200 collectors in Italy and they all knew each other, they all knew the artists. It was a very small world. Today everybody is buying art. I also don’t think today galleries could do what they did in the 60s and 70s. Buying an entire collection at one quarter of the price because nobody knew what the price was. Which is good in a way. But you’re also taking away the poetry of the art if the first question you reliable ask yourself after buying is: “How much is this going to make me.”
LW: You don’t resell?
Sigifredo: I never sold any of what I have bought and I don’t realy think of it. I’m probably wrong for not doing so.
A private museum is certainly a more elegant way to show your neighbours what you’ve been collecting.
LW: What is the motivation of the private museum founder? Taxes, legacy, control, vanity? There are numerous theories to choose from.
Sigifredo: Of course, depending on the country, taxes play a huge role. And then there’s definitely some pride in showing the world what you’ve been collecting all these years. A private museum is certainly a more elegant way to show your neighbours what you’ve been collecting.
LW: What are three of your favourite pieces from your collection?
Sigifredo: Definitely the Heinz Mack because I’ve been so involved with it. Then perhaps a Gastone Novelli. If my parents knew I had him in my house… I love this particular work because I got into a fight with a gallery over being able to buy it, so there’s that added satisfaction. Then there’s this work I bought from Ropac by an artist called Jason...god I’m terrible with names.
LW: Nevermind.
Sigifredo: Anyway, I have a work by a Cuban artist, Yoan Capote, made up of lots of little fish hooks. It’s about people swimming from Cuba to the U.S. and it’s obviously rather political but also very peaceful. I see it every morning when I get up and go down the stairs and it makes me think of the sea. But there are so many more. I have a very unique connection with each and every one of them. Jason Martin! That was the artist!
Statements from this conversation may not be used for any other purpose or by anyone else without the consent of Sigifredo di Canossa and Louisa Krämer-Weidenhaupt.