Starting May 30, PRESENTE CONTINUO will be available to purchase on presentecontinuo.com, cpcompany.com, and at the C.P. Company flagship store in Milan, Corso Matteotti 7.
Stay informed on our latest news!
Stay informed on our latest news!
Starting May 30, PRESENTE CONTINUO will be available to purchase on presentecontinuo.com, cpcompany.com, and at the C.P. Company flagship store in Milan, Corso Matteotti 7.
There’s a playful provocation that runs through the book. When asked if he’s slept with everyone featured, Knepper laughs: “No comment. I’ve done some damage, but not everyone.” That energy — part confession, part myth-making — pulses throughout the pages. It’s a document of queer life without moral boundaries, but not without heart.
More than anything, Sidepiece is about visibility. “I wish I saw something like this when I was younger,” Knepper says. “This isn’t about labels. It’s just about being a young New Yorker, breaking some rules, figuring it out with your friends, and living with no apologies.”
In a culture that still urges people to hide their mess, Knepper offers a tender middle finger. Sidepiece doesn't glamorize destruction — it simply acknowledges that the path to becoming yourself is rarely neat. And sometimes, the sidepiece is the real story.
Now, that visual universe explodes into three dimensions with ToiletFotoPaperGrafiska, the duo’s first major Berlin exhibition, open at Fotografiska Berlin through August 2025. Think magazine spreads brought to life: immersive, disorienting, surreal, and sexy. "It’s like being invited to the best party of your life, where everyone is wildly intoxicated and you’re the only sober person in the room," Maurizio and Pierpaolo said. Visitors are pulled into a world of pool-sized banana pits, garish visual riddles, and worlds that defy logic and resist explanation.
After years of letting their images do the talking, office finally got a few words out of Maurizio and Pierpaolo.
TOILETPAPER feels like a high-gloss fever dream. Where did the original idea come from?
It came from a very specific need: we didn’t want to talk anymore—we just wanted to scream through images. TOILETPAPER was born as a silent manifesto with the volume all the way up. A way to say everything, even the opposite, without ever really explaining ourselves.
How did you come up with the name?
We wanted something essential, universal, and a bit annoying. Everyone uses toilet paper. Every day. It's democratic and we liked the idea that the images could be torn up, used, and thrown away. Like certain thoughts you just can't flush out of your head.
What makes an image a “TOILETPAPER” image?
Is there a rulebook or just a shared gut feeling between you two? If it makes you laugh and provokes a little, then it works. When an image is both disturbing and desirable, then it’s TOILETPAPER. But above all, if it sparks a debate—if it raises more questions than it answers—then it hits the mark.
Do you think that your experience in commercial photography has influenced the imagery you choose?
Of course. It’s like using the enemy’s weapon against them. Advertising teaches you how to seduce— we use that seduction to take you to places you never meant to go.
If TOILETPAPER had a smell, what would it be?
Spaghetti al pomodoro.
So much of your work delicately balances discomfort—chopped-up fingers, lipstick on teeth, raw meat. What role does disgust play in the visual language of TOILETPAPER?
"Unease is a trigger. When you can’t look away, even though part of you wants to, it works. It’s that feeling of ‘I wasn’t ready to see this—but now it’s burned into my brain.’" questa come risposta?
Your images walk the line between attraction and repulsion, humor and horror. How do you know when you’ve found the right balance?
If it doesn’t make you a little uncomfortable, then it’s not TOILETPAPER yet. The perfect line is where you start laughing—and immediately wonder if you should feel ashamed.
Has there been an image that made you laugh out loud?
All the pictures with animals always put me in a good mood. For example the one about the polyamory of cats hugging each other.
If the world ended tomorrow, and someone found a copy of TOILETPAPER buried in the rubble—what would you want them to understand about humans?
We disappeared because we took everything too seriously, and nothing seriously enough. And yet, we tried to be funny—sinking with style in a bathtub full of rubber ducks.
What is the last thing in each of your search histories?
“How to escape an interview gracefully”.
What’s the weirdest thing in your trash cans right now?
Our youths.
What’s your ideal office?
On a beach in Costa Rica.