.jpg)
Homo Faber feels like a destination I always aspired to. In fact, I held it in high regard long before dedicating myself to globe-making, crafting the globes that ultimately enabled me to be part of the show.
This unique event, organized by the Michelangelo Foundation, is held every two years just a short boat ride from the heart of Venice, on the stunning island of San Giorgio.
While being selected to participate was an unexpected honour, my heart raced as I realized the recognition my globes—something I’ve dedicated countless hours to—had received.
But this was only the first of many emotions that Homo Faber would bring my way.
Homo Faber 2024 and The Journey of Life
The 2024 edition of Homo Faber was themed The Journey of Life.
This year’s theme took place through ten distinct rooms, each one representing a different stage of existence. During their stay, visitors were taken on a journey through life, from the innocence of birth to the reality of death.
But the exhibition did not stop there. It also encompassed other essential aspects, such as love, dreams, nature, inheritance, and the dialogues we share with others.
The result has been a collection of incredible works of art housed in each room, crafted by equally incredible artists from all over the world, who narrated those detailed fragments of life from their own personal and irreplaceable point of view. For the entire month of September, the island of San Giorgio became a hive of artistic activity and a place of contemplation. The halls of the Foundation Giorgio Cini—where the exhibition took place—hosted visitors in droves, each embarking on their own journey of reflection and wonder as they moved from one room to the next, stage by stage.
A Room for the Globe
During the month-long event, my station was in the "Journey" room, one of the ten rooms that made up the exhibition path. Dedicated to the concept of travel, both in the sense of a geographical itinerary and in that of a spiritual journey, this room symbolized the importance of following our path, the role of change, and the exquisitely human need for exploration.
The globe on display
The connection to my globes was immediate: doesn't the very idea of crafting globes involve an act of charting journeys, mapping the world, and searching for new possibilities?
Yet, the affinity with this concept went much deeper than that.
Living in such a deeply interconnected world, where the physical unknown has largely been charted and mapped, these globes may not show the way to land unseen anymore, yet the journey they promise is at the same time more subtle and extraordinary.
Each globe is a window into the past, a unique opportunity to relive forgotten ideas and worldviews through the craft of loyal replication, keeping alive the curiosity of true wonderers.
The Globes Lab
Homo Faber was far more than just an opportunity to showcase my globes, as exciting as that was in itself. Instead, I was lucky enough to have the chance to host my own laboratory, where visitors could experience globe-making first-hand.
Throughout the event, I led daily workshops, sponsored by Mazda, that turned out to be extraordinary and intense experiences. Each day, I met groups of 10-13 people, all eager to learn about globe-making and create something themselves.
I designed the workshop to be hands-on and engaging. The catch was simple: participants could print a map onto copper plates, which they would then cut and assemble. The finished product, about 8 cm in size, was their very own miniature globe.
It was amazing to see how much enthusiasm and curiosity people brought with them. The workshop was sold out for the entire month, and every participant went home with a globe—not just a souvenir but, as I like to think, a proof of their original experience in the globe-making of the past.
I thought to myself that this little experiment has been an incredible opportunity to come back to life, once again, for a craft that was lost to the ages.
My Own Journey
The third edition of Homo Faber has been a special journey, I believe, for all those who participated. In my case, it represented a move forward, an invaluable stage on which to showcase my latest creations in front of a public larger than ever before.
Even more than that, it allowed me to meet people with innovative ideas, explore new possibilities for my work, and imagine the future differently. I had conversations with visitors and professionals who proposed me collaborations, ideas for attending international fairs, and suggestions for expanding my work in ways I had never considered.
But it also represented a journey to the past.
In fact, one of the most emotional aspects of this experience was coming back to Venice. Returning to the city that shaped me artistically, where I studied, had a more than special meaning.
By a twist of fate, my accommodation for the whole month of the event was in the very same street where I used to live years before, when I was just a student with loads of passion and not much more.
Every morning, I walked the familiar streets I used to walk back then, and the feeling of being there again, in such a different condition, sprung a long reflection on how much my journey has changed. After my first artistic works, after the idea and the efforts behind the globes I showcased, it felt just like closing a circle: ten years ago, I walked those streets as a student, and today, I return with something to contribute.
I came back home with a new awareness of the possibilities ahead of me and with a renewed passion for what I do. And who knows? Maybe another journey will bring me back here again, where it all started.