Known for his luminous use of Murano glass, Christian Pellizzari has developed a visual language that feels at once fragile and enduring, anchored in nature, yet attuned to the subconscious.
Pellizzari first emerged in the creative world through fashion, where his talent was recognized by Giorgio Armani, who invited him to present his collection at the Armani Teatro during Milan Fashion Week in 2014. Yet in recent years, his practice has shifted toward something quieter, even more profound—installations that dwell in nature and ask us to slow down, to look closer.
His debut as an artist came with Genetic Variations at NOMAD Capri in 2022, marking the beginning of a body of work that meditates on climate, metamorphosis, and the invisible threads that connect the natural and the mystical. From Capri to Cairo, St. Moritz to Milan, he has continued to explore this dialogue through site-specific works, many of which have been shaped in conversation with Nilufar Gallery.
Christian Pellizzari at Nilufar Gallery in Milan
At Milan Design Week 2025, Pellizzari presented Spighe di Vetro as part of Nilufar’s “Amber Echoes”—a dreamlike installation inspired by the rye plant and its folkloric ties to visions and altered states. Floating between fragility and reverence, the work invites viewers to reflect on the resilience of nature, the beauty of slowness, and the transformative power of art.
Pellizzari spoke to Whitewall in Milan about his emotional and spiritual relationship with material, the influence of place, and his belief that meaningful work grows from intuition, memory, and a deep respect for the world around us.
WHITEWALL: Your installation Spighe di Vetro, showcased at Milan Design Week 2025, draws inspiration from the rye plant, known for its mystical associations. What aspects of this plant captivated you, and how did its symbolism influence your creative process?
CHRISTIAN PELLIZZARI: I’m fascinated by nature—its secrets, its transformations, and its quiet power. The rye plant especially intrigued me because of its connection to Claviceps purpurea, a fungus that can grow on it and which historically caused psycho-physical effects in those who consumed contaminated grain. Entire communities in medieval Europe experienced what we might now call mass hallucinations—though at the time, these episodes were often interpreted as spiritual, mystical, or even demonic.
“I’m fascinated by nature—its secrets, its transformations,”
—Christian Pellizzari
Some scholars believe these experiences helped shape early myths of witches and visions. I was drawn to that intersection between the natural and the supernatural—how a plant, without human intervention, could generate such profound stories and emotional responses.
I’m interested in how altered perception has historically opened the door to creativity, vision, and mythology—not as a personal practice, but as a cultural phenomenon. What fascinated me most was that a simple spike of grain could hold all these layers of symbolism: from nourishment and fertility to mysticism and madness.
Visually, too, the spike of rye is so elegant and essential. It appears in sacred art, it was a motif used by Yves Saint Laurent, and it has this beautiful duality—fragile and sharp, minimal and rich with meaning. That convergence of myth, form, and emotion became the foundation for Spighe di Vetro.
An Artist Drawn to the Strength of Nature
Phisophorum Floating. Photo by Alejandro Ramirez Orozco. Courtesy of Christian Pellizzari and Nilufar.
WW: Nature’s resilience and adaptability are recurring themes in your work, from Genetic Variations to Abiogenesis. How do these concepts shape your artistic narrative, and what message do you aim to convey through them?
CP: I’m deeply drawn to the strength of nature. Animals, insects, plants—they all find a way to adapt to the environment around them, even under extreme conditions. In a time like ours, with pollution, destruction, and overdevelopment, that ability feels more important than ever.
When I see abandoned buildings covered in plants, or flowers blooming on volcanic soil years after an eruption, it moves me. It reminds me that nature not only survives, it transforms. It returns with force and grace. There’s something deeply spiritual in that.
But I also believe we need to respect nature. It gives, but it can also destroy. It’s not just beauty—it’s power, mystery, and even danger. That duality is something I try to hold in my work.
WW: Murano glass plays a central role in your installations. What draws you to this material?
CP: Venice has fascinated me since childhood—it’s like a dream made real. A city suspended between water and sky, built with fire and stone. It’s a place of contradictions: delicate yet enduring, ancient yet ever changing. And it has always been a cultural crossroads—Ottoman, Jewish, European influences all layered into its history. That hybridity gives it a kind of quiet alchemy.
Murano glass embodies all of that. It’s born from sand and fire, colored by minerals, and shaped by hand through centuries-old techniques. There’s no industrial process—just elemental transformation. It feels both sacred and tactile, fragile and eternal.
“Venice has fascinated me since childhood—it’s like a dream made real,”
—Christian Pellizzari
What also draws me to it is its sustainability. It can be endlessly recycled, re-melted, reformed. That idea of rebirth—of continuous transformation—mirrors nature in a beautiful way. And even though it carries this ancient legacy, it remains a living material. It invites experimentation. It allows me to unite technique and poetry, tradition and vision, in one sculptural gesture.
Nature, Memory, and Instinct at Nilufar Gallery
Odyssey of Nature’s Rebirth. Courtesy of Christian Pellizzari.
WW: Collaborating with Nilufar Gallery has been a significant part of your artistic journey. How has this partnership influenced your work, and what synergies have emerged from this collaboration?
CP: Most of the time, I work independently—just me and Renato, my right hand. I travel a lot, immerse myself in nature, read, sketch, and collect ideas. When I’m ready, I gather everything—drawings, color tests, models—and bring it all, sometimes quite literally in boxes, to Nilufar Gallery.
There, I sit down with Nina Yashar. She’s a visionary, particularly when it comes to color. We discuss everything—the materials, the mood, the narrative. Nina helps me articulate what’s often still abstract in my mind. Our conversations help transform intuition into clarity, emotion into structure.
It’s always a dialogue. I bring with me nature, memory, instinct—and she brings precision, refinement, and vision. Our synergy is deeply intuitive. Together, we find a shared language that allows these ideas to take shape in space.
WW: Your installations have been exhibited in diverse settings, from the serene landscapes of St. Moritz to the historic sites of Cairo. How do different environments impact your artistic expression and the reception of your work?
CP: Whenever I imagine a new piece, it begins in nature. That’s always the starting point. Spighe di Vetro, for instance, was conceived for snow—for that quiet, luminous whiteness. When I saw it installed in St. Moritz, just as I had envisioned, it felt like harmony. As though the work had found the exact place it was meant to inhabit.
The environment is never just a backdrop—it’s part of the piece. It holds the energy. Cairo, for example, carries so much intensity—the sun, the sand, the weight of history, the spiritual charge of the land. To bring glass there, a material born from sand, felt deeply symbolic. It was like returning something to its origin.
I also try to go deep in my research. I study the flora, the biodiversity, the local myths and visual language. I never want the work to feel imposed—I want it to belong. Today it’s easy to find quick answers online, but that kind of research is only surface-level. To create something meaningful, I believe you have to walk the land, go to libraries, talk to people. You have to listen. The process has to begin with respect—for the place, and for its story.
Rye Ergot. Photo by Alejandro Ramirez Orozco. Courtesy of Christian Pellizzari and Nilufar.
WW: Your creative journey began in fashion, a world also rich in material and form. Do you feel that experience has influenced your current artistic work—or do you see them as entirely separate chapters?
CP: For me, it’s one continuous journey. Fashion gave me structure. It taught me how to create under pressure, how to balance imagination with discipline. Every six months, you had to present something new. That rhythm became exhausting—and it’s something I don’t miss—but it shaped how I work, even today.
Fashion also taught me how to source the right elements. Back then, I was searching for tailors, for rare fabrics. Now, I’m looking for master glassmakers, for artisans who work with metal, with light. That sense of discovery—that process of building something through relationships and research—has stayed with me.
But the most important shift has been time. In art and design, I can stay with a project for months, even years. I can return to the same idea, evolve it, let it grow. I finally have the space to breathe, to refine, to move at the rhythm of the work itself. That’s what I value most now—slowness, depth, and freedom.
WW: Looking ahead, are there new themes you’re eager to explore? What excites you most about the future direction of your artistic practice?
CP: What excites me most is the possibility of going deeper—not faster. I want to continue creating installations that live in dialogue with nature, that emerge from the land and speak to their surroundings. I’m interested in slowness, in intention, in reverence—for place, for material, for meaning.
“I’m interested in slowness, in intention, in reverence—for place, for material, for meaning.”
—Christian Pellizzari
I’ve also started to experiment with new materials. For my most recent installation at Nilufar, I began working with aluminum—sculpting shapes by hand, then casting them in a foundry. It’s an ongoing exploration, and I want to keep expanding my visual language without losing the essence of what moves me.
But above all, I’m moved when people connect with my work. Not just collectors or curators—but anyone. When a passerby stops, looks up, and feels something—that’s when I know it’s real and alive. That’s the beauty I want to keep pursuing.
Frosted Mirror Syriacus. Courtesy of Christian Pellizzari and Nilufar.
