Conversation with Alessia Panella

My first encounter with art happened in Rome, when I was a child and would accompany my father. In the evenings, he would take me to Caffè Rosati, where I began collecting fascinating stories of almost revolutionary painters, especially Mario Schifano. One of the first works I ever bought was, of course, a huge painting by Schifano. However, there are two encounters that remain truly unforgettable.

In 2010, I entered Villa Borghese to see the exhibition of Bacon and Caravaggio shown side by side. For me, coming from the world of abstraction and New York performances, it was a turning point, an encounter with emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.

Sure, I loved Bacon and appreciated Caravaggio, but seeing them together, those monumental canvases side by side in a place like Villa Borghese, was like an electric shock I’ll never forget. It was as if I suddenly had no skin, no defenses, and I was thrown into a whirlwind of indescribable emotions.

In 2010, at MoMA, I met Marina Abramović just a few days before the opening of her performance The Artist is Present. Faced with my sadness about not being able to stay in New York until that date, she, without even knowing me, invited me to a preview. I waited the whole day and was the last person allowed to sit before closing. During those minutes, I distinctly felt the importance of reclaiming the most intimate dimension of being human—the ability to truly live in the hic et nunc.

I believe that art has the power to connect us with our deepest selves, whatever that may be, and to lead us to unknown destinations. After all, in its name, both individuals and entire peoples have committed acts of madness. What is happening these days is, of course, not only sad but tragic, and at first I felt lost, much like I did during the exhibition at Villa Borghese. However, if there is one thing that has made this time not only bearable but even valuable, it’s the opportunity to see a lot of art and to see it with my son. More than ever, I’m convinced that our world needs not only economic and technological achievements, but also poets and artists, so we never lose the sense of who we are.
There’s one image I always show my colleagues at the beginning of the conferences I like to call ‘Art and Law, Art and Tax: Between the Sacred and the Profane’. It’s the expression of two timeless faces, captured by two people who lived four hundred years apart. The ultimate power of storytelling, perhaps, just perhaps, is the power of art.