26/05/2026
APPAREL INTERVIEW:
Marco Poggiali
Florence, Milano, Pietrasanta [Italy]
There’s a floor above Galleria in Milan that not everyone gets to see. Marco is waiting at the entrance, opens the door himself, and in that simple gesture there’s already something essential about who he is. No distance, no unnecessary ceremony. You go up together, and as you climb the stairs you get the feeling you’re entering something more intimate than a gallery, a world built slowly, over time. The space is full of work: some pieces leaning against the floor, others on the walls, others wrapped and waiting to leave or finally find their place. Books, papers, catalogues piled on the desk with that particular, unselfconscious disorder that belongs only to rooms that are truly lived in. It’s not chaos. It’s evidence of work, of obsessions, of conversations, of years. The light is low and diffuse, more shadow than illumination. And yet everything feels sharp. Outside there’s Foro Buonaparte, the traffic, doing what Milan does. In here, time slows down, as if this suspended floor runs on a different clock entirely. Marco sits in the middle of the room, on a plain chair, surrounded by this fragile and beautiful equilibrium of works, paper and memory. We settle into the two armchairs facing him, and before anyone says anything, all of us take a moment to look around. As if we need to register the privilege of being here. Because this is not an office, and not quite a either. It’s the visible archive of a family and professional history that reaches back a long way, to , to the countryside, to picture-framers’ workshops, and arrives here, at one of the most significant addresses in Italian contemporary . We talk without rushing, in a way that feels almost out of place for a Monday afternoon.