CLUB COUTURE — ISSUE 06:
(Stef Fusani)
[Italy]
CLUB COUTURE is a new Apparel Music feature dedicated to emerging talents working across fashion, art, beauty, image making. Designers, stylists, artists and creatives whose practice sits somewhere between craft, culture and personal expression. The project starts from Milan, telling the stories of our local community and the people shaping it, but always with an open gaze outward. Each issue introduces new artists through short portraits. No hype, just process, taste and perspective.
CLUB COUTURE — ISSUE 06:
(Stef Fusani)
[Italy]
CLUB COUTURE is a new Apparel Music feature dedicated to emerging talents working across fashion, art, beauty, image making. Designers, stylists, artists and creatives whose practice sits somewhere between craft, culture and personal expression. The project starts from Milan, telling the stories of our local community and the people shaping it, but always with an open gaze outward. Each issue introduces new artists through short portraits. No hype, just process, taste and perspective.
Stef Fusani Q&A
Stef Fusani is a Milan-born artist and designer whose practice moves fluidly across disciplines, from art and design to material culture and beyond. Shaped by a childhood spent building things out of nothing and a restless impulse to question the obvious, his work resists easy categorisation. Equally at home referencing Italo Calvino and noise music, brutalist sculpture and pop mythology, Fusani brings a contrarian sensibility and a transductive way of thinking to everything he makes. He left Milan the moment he could, only to find himself returning to it differently, and that tension, between belonging and escape, between refusal and curiosity, runs quietly through his work.
-Where are you from?
- Milan, Italy.
-What kind of background did you grow up with?
- Nothing to do with what I do today. My parents come from a completely different background, yet they have always supported a broad cultural education. Because of this, I have been in continuous contact with museums and cultural institutions. I have also been fortunate that they encouraged and supported my path in the field of art and design.
-How did you end up choosing your current practice?
- Art and design are a pretty tough and uncertain way to make a living, even if they can be rewarding at times. I’m not sure it was ever a fully deliberate choice grounded in a clear and solid vision. Rather, it emerged through a series of small decisions and minor interests that gradually accumulated, forming over time a path that only later acquired a certain stability. Passion has a weird way of trapping you. That said, I have to admit that, even as a kid, instinctively, and later as a teenager in a slightly more conscious way, I started getting into certain artistic and design practices. As a child especially, I was always building things in my room with whatever objects I could find around the house. It was a genuinely great feeling, and honestly, I really miss that. Still, up until the moment I had to choose a university, I never thought it could turn into a real profession. It felt too far away, not very accessible, and I was coming from a completely different world.
-How would you describe your style or your work?
- As common as it might sound, I work in a transdisciplinary way, moving across the overlaps and crossovers between different fields, especially art and design, and material culture more broadly. I’d say one of my defining traits, something I’ve carried with me since my teenage years, is a certain contrarian impulse. Cosimo’s “no” at the family dinner, which leads him to live in the trees in Il barone rampante by Italo Calvino, has always stayed with me, and it still feels like one of my first instincts whenever I approach a new project. More recently, I’ve been trying to combine this attitude with a more transductive way of thinking, in my practice. It’s not opposed to that initial refusal, but rather extends it into a different mode,
more instinctive and less bound to rigid, adult forms of logic. It becomes a way of connecting and recombining elements that I find particularly compelling, especially as a means of translating certain mechanisms of my mental process while working.
-What are your main artistic influences?
- I like to feed myself with a bit of everything: from the theatre of Romeo Castellucci or Carmelo Bene to the minimalist precision of Robert Wilson. From the raw sound of Flipper or the noise of Gilla Band, to the melancholic lightness of Lael Neale and the mysticism of Tarta Relena. I’m equally drawn to the “technical” dimension of production processes, as in the work of Max Lamb, to the almost banal crudeness of contemporary icons in Paul McCarthy, to the bodily brutalism of June Crespo, and to the more holistic vision of Bruce Nauman, or the delicacy and attention to detail of Nobuko Tsuchiya. All of this mixes with occasional flashes of pop culture like for instance the stigmata of Padre Pio, the movie Tetsuo: The Iron Man by Shinya Tsukamoto, and even hybrid figures like the ligre.
-What is your relationship with the city of Milan?
- It’s the city where I was born, grew up, and ran away from as soon as I could. Once I started developing a bit of self-awareness, I realized it was very different from what I needed. I guess that’s probably how most teenagers feel about the place they’re born in. Anyway, as soon as I finished high school, I moved abroad, to Spain, and for years I couldn’t stand Milan. I avoided going back as much as possible. But as I got older, I began to see that it has a lot more to offer than I had thought. Now I actually enjoy going back. Every time, I discover a different city, one that’s complex and full of contradictions. I think Milan naturally brings out these mixed feelings. It’s a peculiar place.
Stef Fusani Q&A
Stef Fusani is a Milan-born artist and designer whose practice moves fluidly across disciplines, from art and design to material culture and beyond. Shaped by a childhood spent building things out of nothing and a restless impulse to question the obvious, his work resists easy categorisation. Equally at home referencing Italo Calvino and noise music, brutalist sculpture and pop mythology, Fusani brings a contrarian sensibility and a transductive way of thinking to everything he makes. He left Milan the moment he could, only to find himself returning to it differently, and that tension, between belonging and escape, between refusal and curiosity, runs quietly through his work.
-Where are you from?
- Milan, Italy.
-What kind of background did you grow up with?
- Nothing to do with what I do today. My parents come from a completely different background, yet they have always supported a broad cultural education. Because of this, I have been in continuous contact with museums and cultural institutions. I have also been fortunate that they encouraged and supported my path in the field of art and design.
-How did you end up choosing your current practice?
- Art and design are a pretty tough and uncertain way to make a living, even if they can be rewarding at times. I’m not sure it was ever a fully deliberate choice grounded in a clear and solid vision. Rather, it emerged through a series of small decisions and minor interests that gradually accumulated, forming over time a path that only later acquired a certain stability. Passion has a weird way of trapping you. That said, I have to admit that, even as a kid, instinctively, and later as a teenager in a slightly more conscious way, I started getting into certain artistic and design practices. As a child especially, I was always building things in my room with whatever objects I could find around the house. It was a genuinely great feeling, and honestly, I really miss that. Still, up until the moment I had to choose a university, I never thought it could turn into a real profession. It felt too far away, not very accessible, and I was coming from a completely different world.
-How would you describe your style or your work?
- As common as it might sound, I work in a transdisciplinary way, moving across the overlaps and crossovers between different fields, especially art and design, and material culture more broadly. I’d say one of my defining traits, something I’ve carried with me since my teenage years, is a certain contrarian impulse. Cosimo’s “no” at the family dinner, which leads him to live in the trees in Il barone rampante by Italo Calvino, has always stayed with me, and it still feels like one of my first instincts whenever I approach a new project. More recently, I’ve been trying to combine this attitude with a more transductive way of thinking, in my practice. It’s not opposed to that initial refusal, but rather extends it into a different mode, more instinctive and less bound to rigid, adult forms of logic. It becomes a way of connecting and recombining elements that I find particularly compelling, especially as a means of translating certain mechanisms of my mental process while working.
-What are your main artistic influences?
- I like to feed myself with a bit of everything: from the theatre of Romeo Castellucci or Carmelo Bene to the minimalist precision of Robert Wilson. From the raw sound of Flipper or the noise of Gilla Band, to the melancholic lightness of Lael Neale and the mysticism of Tarta Relena. I’m equally drawn to the “technical” dimension of production processes, as in the work of Max Lamb, to the almost banal crudeness of contemporary icons in Paul McCarthy, to the bodily brutalism of June Crespo, and to the more holistic vision of Bruce Nauman, or the delicacy and attention to detail of Nobuko Tsuchiya. All of this mixes with occasional flashes of pop culture like for instance the stigmata of Padre Pio, the movie Tetsuo: The Iron Man by Shinya Tsukamoto, and even hybrid figures like the ligre.
-What is your relationship with the city of Milan?
- It’s the city where I was born, grew up, and ran away from as soon as I could. Once I started developing a bit of self-awareness, I realized it was very different from what I needed. I guess that’s probably how most teenagers feel about the place they’re born in. Anyway, as soon as I finished high school, I moved abroad, to Spain, and for years I couldn’t stand Milan. I avoided going back as much as possible. But as I got older, I began to see that it has a lot more to offer than I had thought. Now I actually enjoy going back. Every time, I discover a different city, one that’s complex and full of contradictions. I think Milan naturally brings out these mixed feelings. It’s a peculiar place.
-If you were a object?
- The wine flask used by Hermeto Pascoal in his performance “Música da Lagoa.”
-If you were a city?
- Can I say Milan? I never thought I would. But I think it reflects the kind of relationship I have with myself.
-If you were a geometric shape?
- If I think about classical shapes, I’d say a rectangle. First of all because it has the least appeal, I don’t think anyone ever really chooses a rectangle. I’m interested in it because it’s one of those geometric shapes that can stretch and still remain what it is.
-If you were a food?
- Cozza pelosa (Bearded Horse Mussel). Raw and simple. Direct, without any particular sophistication. Maybe even a bit uncomfortable, with a texture that can be off-putting. And with the risk of making you feel sick.
-What would be your music for the Club Couture?
- I’ll make you my personal playlist for the CC: Chicago Underground Duo - Dante / Boiling Hot Politician - Keegz / Sonny Sharrock - Black Woman / FUCTAPE - i hate u / SALò - Malizia / King Cayman - Black Lemonade & Golden Gloves / Scorpion Violente - The Knife / Pedestrian Deposit - Crow Theory / RRAOUHHH! - Cardio / Rodion G.A. - Cantec Fulger / and last but not least… some tracks by an incredible band called No Fun Underground…
-If you were a object?
- The wine flask used by Hermeto Pascoal in his performance “Música da Lagoa.”
-If you were a city?
- Can I say Milan? I never thought I would. But I think it reflects the kind of relationship I have with myself.
-If you were a geometric shape?
- If I think about classical shapes, I’d say a rectangle. First of all because it has the least appeal, I don’t think anyone ever really chooses a rectangle. I’m interested in it because it’s one of those geometric shapes that can stretch and still remain what it is.
-If you were a food?
- Cozza pelosa (Bearded Horse Mussel). Raw and simple. Direct, without any particular sophistication. Maybe even a bit uncomfortable, with a texture that can be off-putting. And with the risk of making you feel sick.
-What would be your music for the Club Couture?
- I’ll make you my personal playlist for the CC: Chicago Underground Duo - Dante / Boiling Hot Politician - Keegz / Sonny Sharrock - Black Woman / FUCTAPE - i hate u / SALò - Malizia / King Cayman - Black Lemonade & Golden Gloves / Scorpion Violente - The Knife / Pedestrian Deposit - Crow Theory / RRAOUHHH! - Cardio / Rodion G.A. - Cantec Fulger / and last but not least… some tracks by an incredible band called No Fun Underground…
