Paradise Found

May 03, 2019

If only we could all live and think like Carlito Dalceggio, who at eighteen years old made the bold decision to forego the pursuit of money in favor of the pursuit of majesty.

His art channels a reverberating inner language, building from scratch a self-sourced lore that emerges from everywhere and nowhere. The symbols of his cipher liquidate the necessity of division, category, context, instead creating a primordial spiritual environment, like the cave where the first sentient homo sapiens drew on the walls in order to understand the innate magic of the world and their place within it. Somewhere between then and now, our connection to this inner language has changed, though we still feel the thirst to hear its song — Carlito Dalceggio’s art attempts to quench that thirst, if only with a small, sweet sip of enlightenment.

Text by John Martin Tilley

I visited Carlito at his temporary studio, set up in the basement of Mana Contemporary, which he’d transformed into an immersive environment, building a magnificent portal at the entrance, which was in turn approached through a hallway painted in French phrases. The portal was made of simple materials, cardboard and paper, as is all his work — the simplicity and delicacy make it both approachable and precious, like houses made of cards, they feel as if they were about to blow away with the smallest draft of air or suddenly dissolve if you move too suddenly.

The artist is a worldly sprite, his look, accent and demeanor confirm his self-definition as a citizen of the world. He’s one of those people you might meet in a youth hostel in Europe or a drum circle on the beach in Madagascar or South America or Thailand, who laughs easily and speaks cheerfully in compelling Zen riddles. As he showed me around, a low, tribal music played, which he had a hand in producing, and he showed me alcohol bottles that he made for the opening of the exhibition, the liquor itself sourced from a friend who produced it for the show — Carlito had a hand in creating literally every aspect of the upcoming exhibition, reinforcing his mantra of eradicating the borders between artistic disciplines and creative impulses. Everything is in service of the vision.

Our conversation, as you can see below, ended on the subject of churches and our continuing need for places of profound beauty. On the car ride back from Newark, the story broke that Notre Dame was in flames. It was eerie timing, since Carlito and I had just been discussing how, more and more, the contemporary world turns away from organized religion and more toward older, primal belief systems like those he taps into in his work. The societies he conjures were those that danced around the fire, whose art via deep-seeded spirituality was an intrinsic part of daily life. Perhaps the fire of Notre Dame is symbolic of a new era, where the boundaries between the metaphysical and the mundane no longer exist. Carlito’s art exists at the celebratory point of the dawning of such an era. Everything is in service of the vision.

Above: Approach to the studio; studio view.

So let’s walk around.

For me the art studio is very, very important. It’s like a place of ritual, it’s where reality needs to be abandoned and all the problems of the world, and even my own ego, are left behind in service of the vision. I came to serve art — that’s why there’s always a big portal at the entrance of my studio, it’s like, wow, the world of reality is left behind. It’s a bit like in the tribes, when they paint their bodies and they go around the fire, they play the music. For me it’s like losing your human shape, I call it, like don’t think anymore, to channel and really be in the trance to create.

The art seems to speak to that as well, it seems very tribal or primal or something.

Yeah, I love the idea of returning to the origin, instead of always going forward, I think it’s bringing the ancestors and the future together.

I think there’s a big thread of that in culture now, because we’re at such a weird point as humans. I notice a lot of people are thinking about that.

I really believe in the making, the mystic is in the making — I make my own art, I cut everything, make everything, it’s an act of liberation for the art, when you do it, and I love when the art is a bit incomplete, very raw, primal, so people can identify with it. I feel that I leave the door open in the art for the people to come in, so they’re not only spectators, they’re part of this legend.

It feels like an environment.

Yeah, it’s a life experience.

Above: View of the wall with the title of the studio, 'Ritual Flesh'; Carlito signing a picture that he gifted me.

So these are all the pieces that will be on view at Canal Street?

Yeah. The exhibition on Canal Street, that is also kind of a manifesto, a vision manifesto, or whatever you call it, an experience, it’s called ‘Mythologia Libre,’ and it’s a lot about the end of all boundaries. I think there’s a new way to see art, to live art, and for me this is to destroy the boundaries between sculpture, painting, music, poetry, films, videos, so all these media are coming together to create one mythologia.

So you produced this music?

Yes, we created the whole soundtrack with a musician, with the poetry that, there’s one actress called Golshifteh Farahani from Iran, that I sent her my poetry, she recorded it, and then it comes back here, we took parts of classical music remixed — it’s a bit like the way I create my paintings, there are a lot of elements from different cultures and states of mind, I do the same with the music. You can also see some video loops — in the studio I have an animation table, so all the films I make here. I make my paintings with collage, so I take a lot of pieces before I do the collage with the painting and bring them to the animation table.

And what do you use for collage, what do you gravitate toward?

You know, I mostly use my own samples. I call it my supermarket.

So it’s all from you, it’s all produced from the same source.

Yeah, I do a lot, a lot of strokes, faces, characters and papers, and I call it my supermarket. When I’m doing a painting and I need a certain face with a certain emotion, I look for it and when I find it, I destroy it, cut it, mount it to the canvas. I call it archeology from the riverside, I put treasures and then I cover them a bit. So there’s a lot of layering in my paintings.

Above: Studio views.

They’re very three dimensional. What is the name of this one?

This one is, ‘We must find a name for them before they are forgotten.’ And it’s a lot about this story of Standing Rock, with the natives there, and it’s really to give back the wisdom and the land to the first nations all over the world.

And where are you from?

I was born in Montreal, but I’ve always considered myself a citizen of the planet, I’ve never believed in boundaries. So I travel, and I have my studios in many different cities, from Mexico City to Brazil to India to Paris to New York, Istanbul, and now back in New York.

And you feel like there’s this thread in ancient cultures, that they all have this similarity?

That’s why the ‘Mythologica Libre,’ there’s no source of these myths, they carry the wisdom of the planet, and the wisdom of the ancestors, and we tend to forget about them, but they carry, really, the reason for our existence on this planet. So it’s very important to provoke these myths, to love them, to carry them, to build a bridge for them and carry them to the future.

I was just talking about that with an artist — I didn’t talk to him about it, but about him, I compared him to Disney, because I think Disney does that a lot, where they take these old myths and then repackage them for modern audiences. Would you agree with that?

We’re transforming them. It’s like everybody who is carrying the myth with them, we put ourselves into this myth and our own soul is going to feed that myth, that energy, and that’s going to carry it into the future of humanity.

Above: Studio views.

Now what is ‘Ritual Flesh’?

That’s the name of the studio. Every studio has a name, you know.

Oh okay! What are some of the other names?

There was ‘Born in Exile,’ ‘Color Palace’ one time, ‘Freedom Temple’ in Mexico City. It’s part of the mythology for me, it’s like every studio is a bit of a kingdom that we built. So to give a name to the physical location gives it an importance, and a visual identity, too, and the exhibition is really in the same state of mind that is not only the production I did in the last six months, it’s more of a legend and a story that we built over years that we want to transmit to the world, to inspire. For me, to trigger the imagination and inspiration is very important.

So what is the story you’re telling here?

You know, the story is never very… I don’t define it or explain it because I want everybody to come and create their own legend, I put pieces of this legend, there are some keys, and then everybody that comes in will feed it, and transform it and make it their own.

It almost feels like hieroglyphics.

There’s one thing I research a lot called ’the secret alphabet,’ there’s a lot of this in this exhibition. I believe in a set of symbols that will become universal, that will reach every culture, and with this set of symbols everybody can communicate, and it’s the way to reach peace. Reaching peace is very big for me.

I was just thinking about that today, because I was watching this guy play this game on his phone that was all numbers, and they say that mathematics is the universal language, that we would be able to communicate with aliens through mathematics. Do you ever think about mathematics in that way?

Maybe I’ve transformed mathematics into my own symbols. I read a lot of books and I have a lot of knowledge, but I transform the knowledge into colors. I tend to be a bit like a monk in the studio, I’m here for hours and hours, and I don’t spend much time going to exhibitions and seeing what’s going on in the art world. I say the less I know what’s going on, the more I’m pure to my own vision, and I’m connected with the spirits. There are a lot of people who know about symbols from other cultures, and sometimes they come and they say wow, this is coming from there, but for me, I didn’t know, I’m just channeling this image of these symbols.

I transform knowledge into colors.

Studio view (Carlito with the alcohol bottles he designed)

'Mythologia Libre' opens TONIGHT at 6pm and is on view through May 24th, 2019, at 332 Canal Street.

Art

LIA by Iga Drobisz

Your work often explores intimacy and vulnerability. How do you create a safe and authentic environment for your subjects during a shoot?

The past few months, I’ve been working on two series of photographs: nudes of women in their own apartments and portraits of women before and after giving birth. Both series involve capturing them in deeply personal spaces—bedrooms or nurseries—where they feel at ease.

Shooting in their spaces, in their own beds, plays a crucial role in creating comfort. I choose film and cameras that show them in a way they find beautiful and empowering, emphasizing softness and warmth. It's a stark contrast to modern, hyper-detailed phone cameras that sometimes reveal more than one wants to see.

Your photography has a distinct emotional depth and texture. How do you approach the interplay of light, color, and composition to achieve this?

My process is highly intuitive. I’ve never formally studied photography or apprenticed under anyone—I learned by experimenting and seeing what felt right. It’s about trusting my instincts rather than adhering to rigid rules.

What role do personal experiences or cultural influences play in shaping the stories you tell through your images? Many of your photographs feel deeply narrative.

Growing up, I was surrounded by great cinematography. My grandmother had a TV, but my mom only brought home VHS tapes—films with substance. I think that exposure shaped how I see the world, how I approach subjects, and the narrative depth in my work.

What role does spontaneity play in your shoots? Do you leave room for improvisation, or is everything carefully planned?

To balance spontaneity and structure, I go in with a clear plan and strong direction, but I remain open to surprises. It’s about letting the subject feel like the shoot is about them, not me. That openness often leads to the most unexpected, meaningful moments.

What inspired the shoot with singer Lia? How did it come together?

Collaborating with Ruby and Naomi always takes me out of my comfort zone in the best way. For this shoot, we wanted to transform someone with an iconic face but also someone like Lia—someone with a clear sense of self.

Giving her a completely new look was exciting; it brought an unexpected energy to the set. The approach was playful and experimental. The night before, I had no idea what wigs Ruby would bring or what colors Naomi might choose. It was a beautiful mix of spontaneity and collaboration.

What inspires you the most?

Movies and music are big inspirations for me, as well as the work of other photographers like Carlijn Jacobs, Harley Weir, Rineke Dijkstra, Charlotte Wales, and Nan Goldin.

What emotions or truths are the hardest for you to express through your art, and why?

I don’t think I consciously try to express specific emotions when I work. Instead, I follow what feels right in the moment—what draws me in or excites me that day. It’s less about a deliberate expression and more about letting intuition guide the way.

Art

Luna Luna: Surrealist Spectacle Lands in New York

November 21, 2024

In the 1980s, André Heller, an Austrian artist, singer-songwriter, and former actor, was looking for a new place to showcase his art. He had already taken to gardens, creating a colorful, surrealistic character using 40,000 flowers, and to the skies, organizing a 'fire theatre,' which involved an over-the-top fireworks show complete with steel-frame sculptures set on fire. But he had never tried out a fair.

So began "Luna Luna." Created as the world's first art carnival, "Luna Luna" combined the spectacular with the absurd, showcasing original rides and attractions from rising and already-at-the-top artists in Hamburg. Nearly forty years since its debut, followed by foiled plans for a worldwide tour, breached contracts, and 44 storage containers, the art fair has finally returned, calling New York home after re-debuting last year in Los Angeles.

By Hailey Johnson
Photography by Delvin Claro and Sabrina Sarnitz, courtesy of Luna Luna LLC

On a recent evening in Hudson Yards, a small carousel featured characters in quirky, Twister-like poses and an outstretched dog with seven legs. (Almost a century old, the rides are no longer rideable.) Goofy wooden sculptures were elevated in another corner, some of them cross-eyed or with a horn for a nose. A geodesic dome glowed, with Gregorian chants hovering somewhere above it.

"It's an art experience like no other," Michael Goldberg, Chief Experience Officer of Luna Luna, said recently. "People get to see artists do things they've never done before," he added.

Goldberg, founder of Something Special Studios, a creative agency behind many Nike campaigns, was determined to resurrect “Luna Luna” after reading about it online in 2019. Goldberg shopped for investors, eventually teaming up with DreamCrew, a media company co-owned by the rapper Drake. (Details on the company's investment remain vague; sources have reported that DreamCrew spent over "100 million dollars.") In 2022, an intensive restoration process began, with a team of artists reviving many of the original works, which had remained in boxes in a Texas warehouse for over thirty years. Several had been in pieces. (The team reportedly had to rebuild each work "bolt by bolt.")

That night, at the Shed, fourteen out of the original thirty-five works were on display, including the small carousel (Keith Haring), the goofy sculptures (Kenny Scharf), the neon dome (Salvador Dali), and a towering Ferris wheel decorated in drawings of stick figures, upside crowns, and references to Jim Crow (Basquiat). Missing works are in a "constant state of restoration," Goldberg said. Meanwhile, new attractions are joining the line-up. For the New York show, the Puerto Rican duo Poncilí Creación was commissioned to create "PonciliLand," a blink-and-you-miss-it section where guests "can create fantastical characters out of custom building blocks." Poncili also developed floating characters, inspired by performers who circulated the original “Luna Luna” fairgrounds in 1987. Known as "Lovers," the two characters, large and dreamlike, teetered to one side, mumbling the kind of nervous groans one does before a fall. (They never ended up falling.)

I asked Goldberg if, given that today's culture doesn't quite look or feel the same way as it did in 1987, there was any hesitation in showing some of the original works. On a back wall, a tribute featured Manfred Diex's "Palace of the Wind," a show featuring performers who fart into a microphone; on another, two ornate pedestals held sculptures of spiral poop.

"I don't see any reason why we wouldn't show any of these works," he said. "A lot of the time, art is exclusive and uninviting. The big difference between “Luna Luna” and other art experiences is that it has many sides to it, and things that have a bit of humor and playful energy. "As for "Palace of the Winds,” the decision to keep it was simple: farting is universal. He went on: "The “Crap Chancellery" is, conceptually, one of the most important works in “Luna Luna.” Daniel Spoerri's dad was killed in the Holocaust, and the work was inspired by Albert Speer, who was Hitler's architect. He took the facade of what was meant to be a Nazi shrine and turned it into the facade of a bathroom with two steaming statues of shit standing on the outside. These works are extremely important and are things that we would definitely want to honor and draw attention to."

As “Luna Luna” further develops, the show will likely change. "It will continue to evolve as we go to different cities in response to the spaces that we pop up into and in collaboration with the local city," Goldberg said." With it, there will be new characters and new stories to tell. One aspect that won't change, though, as Goldberg assured, is a long-held sentiment about a potential partnership. At one point, early on during the original “Luna Luna” era, McDonald's wanted to buy into it. Heller said no, adding that he "didn't want it to feel like Disneyland." Goldberg agreed. Nonetheless, as I watched Kenny Scharf's dizzying swing ride go around for what felt like the hundredth time, with the cartoon characters decorated on it blurring together (one with a villain's grin, another morphed into a martini glass), I couldn't help but feel like maybe I was at Disneyland, only not as robbed, but just as entertained and exhausted by its rides and fantastical characters, and wanting to go again.

Luna Luna, Hamburg, Germany, 1987.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.