Spaces With a Room for Doubt

Dobroslawa Nowak talks with Claudia Sinigaglia about her long-term urban explorations, thought-provoking cross-ocean travels, and projects that don’t want to be contained in a single medium.

Clicca qui per leggere questo articolo in italiano

Dobroslawa Nowak: You travel a lot. Besides Europe, you have carried out projects in Japan, Hong Kong, Russia, the U.A.E., and other countries. Do you travel to do projects, or do you do projects to travel?

Claudia Sinigaglia: I believe these things are not separate. If I didn’t like traveling, I probably wouldn’t travel to create projects. It’s a way of exploring new perspectives, allowing me to engage with a cultural and thinking framework different from the one I’m used to. Let’s say that this encounter with new realities also allows me to rethink my mental patterns. And from this, work or projects often arise that I might not have created had I stayed in Milan, within my comfort zone.

D.N.: Traveling helps you evoke things in you that otherwise might not have come into existence?

C.S.: Probably yes. And above all, it helps me question my own point of view. In some ways, traveling forces you to rethink your habits by dealing with completely different cultures.

D.N.: About your recent series, “Tracing Dreams” (2023-2024), you write that “this photographic project is a random walk in a dream dimension that explores the border between real and imaginary.” As a wanderer, you, immersed in the unknown city, allow yourself such a free exploration that it lets you observe the environment, taking advantage of a “fragmented narrative, composed of visual notes, photographic glitches, authentic landscapes that seem unreal, imaginary landscapes that seem factual, and random walk graphs generated by artificial intelligence.” Is there anything you would like to add?

C.S.: Yes, let’s say that the idea of ​​working with the concept of dream was born while exploring the city of Dubai, where I participated in an artistic residency at the end of 2023 — an artist exchange between Bayt AlMamzar and Viafarini — which offered me a deeper perspective on the city. During my stay there, I delved into academic readings and research, exploring the theme of representation and perception of reality. That became the starting point for reflecting on the concept of dream in its various dimensions and how narratives shape our vision of a place. The border between the two is often blurred, and I wanted to explore this theme in relation to a city widely recognized for its ​​dynamism and innovation but which also stands as a stratified, complex, cosmopolitan, and ever-evolving place in which multiple identities coexist.

D.N.: What do you want to convey to the public with “Tracing Dreams”? Or maybe the beauty of this project comes mainly from the freedom you have encountered?

C.S.: More than making a statement, this work develops through questions. It is an attempt to challenge what we consider real and what we perceive as a product of imagination or fantasy because all these elements often overlap. With this work, I start with photographic documentation, leading to images where the original subjects become unrecognizable.

D.N.: In “Tracing Dreams,” you “disassembled,” questioned the reality of a city, while in your previous project, “Study on Invisibility” (2023), you touched on the even broader theme of the image itself. You recall research on the main tactics of camouflage and concealment, evanescence, persistence, and the transformation of the image in an era permeated by the digital. As you note, “Tracing not only concerns the data we share consciously but extends to a complex network of information generated by our interactions and social connections.” The theme is current and stimulating. What does this ongoing project consist of? Would you like to tell us about this research?

C.S.: “”Study on Invisibility” is a work in progress that investigates the theme of invisibility, starting from photography and continuing to theoretical research. We are increasingly confronted with digital tracking that can also become highly invasive in the current context. The possibility of accessing the subway or buying a bottle of water through a face scan system is a topic I find particularly interesting to explore, especially in relation to the increasingly widespread artificial intelligence systems that can also profile us. Just think of the possible applications of AI systems in the HR field or the social scoring systems we find, for example, in China. And all the traces that we leave online, in the digital world, which to us may seem…

D.N.: …irrelevant…

C.S.: They seem irrelevant, exactly, because they don’t have a physical consistency, in some way, but they have a strong presence, and some of this data will remain archived for a very long time, if not forever. So there is this duality of digital, which, on the one hand, is immaterial and seems not to exist, but on the other hand, becomes increasingly relevant and has tangible effects in our lives.

D.N.: The photographic project, however, is composed of blurry images of people and doesn’t seem to cover the theme you are discussing fully.

C.S.: My work starts from the physical space to explore the condition of invisibility and the possible camouflage techniques. The work includes a collection of photographs of figures cut out from images of crowds. Blending into a crowd can be a camouflage technique, as it is easier to go unnoticed if you are part of a group. This is how I started this series of photographs by isolating images of fleeting figures. Even the movement in the photograph contributes to making the subject invisible. In my collection of images, the human figure disappears, and somehow, even though it’s present, it’s not visible.

D.N.: Some of your research is long-term. “Untitled” is a work you have been developing since 2017. It is a series of drawings that depict crowds in various public locations, such as vernissages, concerts, beaches, Time Square, or the Guggenheim Museum.

You write that this work “explores the possibility of identifying general behavioral schemes and recurring patterns, also representable through algorithms.” You admit that “although it is impossible to predict the behavior of a single individual due to the physical, emotional, cognitive and social variables that influence it, people in groups often show behaviors similar to particles moving in a fluid.”

Investigating these themes for over eight years, do you find any reference to your finding yourself/feeling/being in the world? Do you feel more like an observer or a particle of the crowd?

C.S.: I feel more like a particle trying to become aware of the space in which it finds itself. This work originally stemmed from some research related to architecture. I come across algorithmic models used by architects in the design of public spaces. These models were meant to predict how people would move within the space in times of overcrowding or in particular situations.
So, I started to reflect on the predictability of our movements. Then, in some way, these mechanisms are also found in other contexts if we think about the flow of information that we follow on social media. We live in a world that is increasingly polarized.
This series of drawings takes architecture as its starting point but also reflects on how we move and think within a community, a group, and in the city space.

But it is also in some way a diary of some very crowded places where I found myself, and where I don’t always feel at ease, perhaps also a way to record these situations…

D.N.: Understand and control.

C.S.: Search for awareness.

D.N.: I will make a bold note that the project was presented in a more figurative form already in 2015, as “Untitled (Collective Behavior)” where you observe and photograph the collective situations and cases of aggregation encountered.

The series is part of a research that “through images and through the study of other disciplines such as sociology, anthropology, and management, aims to develop a reflection on habits, processes of change and, in some cases, algorithms that constitute or describe our contemporaneity.”

C.S.: Yes, that’s true. My research is based on photography and sometimes it also develops through other means, such as drawing. Photography is often the first step in observing what is around me.
I had come from some experiences that led me to study different managerial models in depth, and I reflected on how the surrounding context can influence our behaviors. This can happen on a psychological level, but it is often a mechanism found on different scales and in various contexts.

And so, yes, photography, in this work as well, was a first step in formalizing this thought, but there is also a reflection on the very thin line between randomness and what is not random, because — in this series of photographs — while the observed groups of people seem to arrange themselves in choreographies, it is actually only a situation dictated by chance.

So there is also this aspect to consider, that we often find ourselves faced with statistics, visualizations, and analyses, which show an interpretation of the world and give a reading of contemporaneity, but there are also a lot of cases of spurious correlations; cases of various dynamics that seem to be connected to each other, but that in reality have no correlation.

D.N.: I recall a Scandinavian movie called “Kitchen Stories” (2003), depicting the research of a group of scientists who want to understand the exact movements of people in the private lives of their homes, specifically in their kitchens. To carry out detailed analyses, a scientist enters the home of a volunteer in his sixties, climbs onto a stool that reaches the ceiling in the corner of the kitchen, and from now on, for a few weeks of the duration of the experiment, as indicated in the contract, they no longer exchange a word. In the end, however, this scientific observation becomes a story of a friendship.

Speaking of the movies, let’s move on to the landscapes with symmetrical shots and pastel colors — similar to those of Wes Anderson — in your recent series of photographs, “Rainbow Box 2025,” realized in Asia.

Choi Hung Estate is a Hong Kong residential complex built in the 1960s and designed to house almost 43,000 people. At the time of its opening, it was the largest public housing project in the city. Over time, this residential complex has become a visual icon.

Choi Hung, meaning “rainbow” in Cantonese, evokes an image of harmony in a narrative construction that overlaps functionalist architecture, its social challenges, and its limitations. “Rainbow Box” (2025) is a photographic series that explores Choi Hung Estate as a narrative space, a layered archive of collective and personal memories that embodies the contradictions of contemporary urban development. Would you like to talk about the contradictions you have in mind?

C.S.: In fact, in Hong Kong, there are many residential complexes with such a high population density, but this one struck me particularly for having become a visual icon due to its “scenographic” appearance of pastel shades, creating a contrast with the problems that characterize this type of architecture.

All these residential complexes built with functionality in mind come with many challenges, first of all for the people who live there. Often, the spaces are not enough, and people live in housing conditions that are not always optimal. This is something that we often come across in big cities.

For me, the city has always been a fundamental place in my journey… I have never been able to imagine living elsewhere. Cities can offer you many opportunities, but, on the other hand, they can also take away space. This may be one of the reasons why I have always found it interesting to explore these housing complexes designed and built for so many people, with a series of similar spaces, while each resident has different needs and habits. This photographic series portrays these modular architectures but also captures moments of daily life: food dried in the sun, sheets hanging in shared courtyards, and people waiting. In a certain sense, these standardized spaces are transformed when they encounter the reality of the people who inhabit them.

D.N.: Another city you visited is Kudrovo, which is also the name of the project that was realized in 2018. “Kudrovo is a satellite city in the Vsevolozhsky district, adjacent to the city of St. Petersburg. In 2010, it was a village with a population of just over 100 inhabitants. After that, intensive construction of residential high-rises began, and the apartments were sold to people who worked in the nearby St. Petersburg. According to recent censuses, the population of Kudrovo is around 60,700 inhabitants. It consists of seven residential complexes, each dedicated to a European capital. Green recreational activities are at the center of each residential block, with schools, kindergartens, and services.

The way you describe the project suggests that you are making plain documentation of a city, reminding us that photography is a cold medium. Looking at the shots, one might even think it is just a hypothetical model of the planned city that was never built. In your opinion, what is the value of this type of documentary photography today? Or maybe you don’t perceive it as such and see other qualities I hadn’t focused on?

C.S.: Yes, this is a documentary project, as is the one on the Choi Hung Estate. It’s a documentary work, a research I am interested in continuing to develop. I have also portrayed some residential complexes and neighborhoods in Milan and other cities. It is more of an exploration. The project on Kudrovo was realized during a residency at Pushkinskaya Art Center in St. Petersburg. I wanted to explore the suburbs and outskirts of the city.

D.N.: Was it a sketch for you, an introduction to more complex research?

C.N.: It was a satellite city built in a few years, replacing a village. I wanted to document this reality with high-density buildings based on established models that seem to keep replicating themselves. I question whether it is possible to rethink our cities and housing models.

These types of structures are found in many metropolises around the world. For me, it’s a process of documentation and research that I continue over time through a series of reports on these places that seem almost surreal.

D.N.: In your opinion, what is the value of documentary images today? If they weren’t part of your personal research, what would be their importance when everything seems already documented? Or maybe it only seems but in reality it’s not?

C.S.: I believe the path to a certain image can make a difference. In my case, I see the documentation of that specific situation more as a piece of a broader project.

D.N: “City Pattern” (2018-ongoing) and “Sitting Room” (2018) are the photographic series that are more sensitive to the inhabitants of urban spaces. In the former, where you portray cases of high-density urbanism, you engage “in the exploration of metropolises and suburbs, sleeping districts and satellite cities in different parts of the world such as Tokyo, New York, St. Petersburg, Taipei, and Dubai, creating a collection of patterns and repetitions.” In the latter, “Sitting Room”, you talk about how public places are transformed into familiar spaces through individual and collective life stories. This photographic series portrays household effects that become “street furniture” and explores the boundaries between the public and private spheres. Arranged outside houses and shop doors, these objects become the trace of personal stories. “Sitting Room” investigates the character of inhabited spaces by focusing on temporary situations.

It was your last project so close to people’s lives in recent years. Your research has become more and more abstract and detached from this initial interest in the human in the city. Observing this process, where do you think you will find yourself artistically in a few years?

C.S.: My projects also develop in relation to the context in which I find myself. In that case, it was a project developed during a residency program in China in 2018, before the pandemic.

Walking around the city, it happened to find temporary “living rooms” set up on the sidewalks with chairs and tables, with families or groups of friends who found themselves eating ravioli or playing Chinese checkers, “appropriating” the city and transforming the public space into an almost domestic environment. This photographic series was born from this.

In some ways, I believe that my work inevitably reflects the reality I deal with daily. This aspect of abstraction that I have developed a more in the following years, I think, is also shaped by the recent evolution we have witnessed in the technological sector, by my growing interest in this area and in digitalization, and also by all those epochal changes that we are experiencing, such as the rise and development of artificial intelligence. My work wouldn’t evolve independently of all those historical changes that we are witnessing.

D.N. In 2022, you return to portray people but erase their faces! I am talking about the “Untitled (portraits)” project, which consists of a series of small portraits painted on photographs cut from business magazines, painted on the face, and made anonymous. “The project explores the construction of identity within contemporary communication formats.” “Suspended between uniqueness and repetition, the portraits of this series explore the fluidity and complexity of identity in its representation.” Would you like to add something?

C.S.: Yes, let’s say this project also has multiple levels of interpretation. It is perhaps worth saying that I developed that work during the pandemic, during which we no longer saw people’s faces when we left home because we were wearing masks. I was seeing people through social media, in magazines, and in photographs. It was a period in which digital technology forcefully entered our lives. Along with this, visual communication formats used by the media also acquired significant relevance, let’s say, in our way of perceiving others, that is, our perception of people. I think this situation played a role in the creation of a project like “Untitled (portraits).”

D.N.: I would like to return to your two other poetic projects, “Untitled (Constellations)” (2015-ongoing) and “Atlas Coelestis” (2020). In the first one, you are inspired by nocturnal urban landscapes. The images compose a travel diary that portrays architecture with illuminated windows of different cities – including Tokyo, Kyoto, Shanghai, New York, Dubai, Milan, St. Petersburg, Berlin, and London – as if they were constellations. About the second project, “Atlas Coelestis,” you say: “I recreate constellations from star charts illustrated in old celestial atlases through a series of photographs of glass fragments. The resulting images are a misinterpretation of pulsing presences which mark a void, in which dark space is interrupted by shining reflections.”

What does this reference to constellations mean to you? Can we expect that along with the conquest of outer space, you will be the one to explore the dynamics and our process of inhabiting?

C.S.: It would be interesting! The theme of constellations refers to an exploration of what is beyond the known territory, leaving room for imagination. Perhaps it also makes us reflect in some way on the limits of our imagination because it is a process that inevitably develops from something we already know. The constellations in my works are created starting from something that belongs to our everyday life. In the first case, they are buildings with illuminated windows. In the second case, they are reflections on glass fragments, creating an image that recalls the constellations, referring to this infinite space beyond the known.

D.N.: And what does that mean to you? Ultimately, it’s the connections you make, because these images don’t exist without your perception.

C.S.: Of course. Yes, for me, it is necessary to imagine beyond what we can see. I think it is essential, even in critical thinking, not to stop at a first reading of things but to look for new questions and possible answers.

Translation & editing: Dobroslawa Nowak