Throughout 2026, the Cittadellarte Journal hosts a series of interviews with collaborators of the Foundation, all invited to respond to the same set of questions. Cittadellarte in the Mirror — this is the title of the column — presents itself as an exercise in listening and self-reflection that crosses different roles, practices, and sensibilities, offering a plural portrait of the Cittadellarte organism. The questions touch upon some of the most urgent knots of our time — from social transformation to responsibility, from education to indifference, from the risks of artistic action to the possibility of reactivating empathy — and function as a mirror: they do not seek definitive answers, but ask respondents to take a position, to expose themselves, to question their own role in the present.

In this fourth installment, the mirror turns to Daniele Garella, webmaster and, above all, a longstanding figure within the Foundation. Trained through a hybrid path between communication and creative disciplines, with music as a constant, shortly after the beginning of the new millennium he began working at Cittadellarte, while also tending to an old vineyard. “I pursue transformation and lightness,” he explained, “both as a digital communicator and as a sensitive winemaker.” Over the years he has watched Cittadellarte grow, change, pass through phases of momentum and moments of uncertainty, maintaining a careful eye on the connections between technology, culture, and social responsibility. His perspective intertwines critical thinking and irony, educational attention and a drive toward an idea of transformation that does not remain the heritage of a few. In this conversation, Garella reflects on the present time — marked by technological acceleration, widespread conflicts, and new forms of indifference — questioning the role of art and communication in reactivating understanding, empathy, and participation.

2025 closes as a year in which the word “transition” seems to have lost its strength, replaced by a widespread sense of fatigue and a return to logics of power, war, and closure. In this context, does it still make sense to speak of responsible social transformation, or must we change our vocabulary and rethink our practices?
Transition in itself entails moving from one condition to another, so it is both a negation of stasis and a form of evolution. Transition does not necessarily imply a constructive passage or movement toward a better condition. For a long time we lived in a utopia — first Enlightenment, then post-conflict twentieth century — that, also nourished by capitalist ideology, suggested we could move toward economic growth and collective improvement as though it were the most natural outcome. There have always been many dissenting voices, whether out of political sensitivity or human disposition, but now I believe a large part of the population shares the conviction that if we continue like this we will crash into a wall.
I refer to the theory known as the “Red Queen Hypothesis,” drawn from Lewis Carroll’s "Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There". It is doubly interesting for us, engaged in a place that lives through the mirror and within the mirror. This Red Queen says: “Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!” This hypothesis has been used to explain deleterious processes such as the arms race, but it can also be interpreted in a virtuous key: precisely when it seems hardest to give perspective to our efforts, when the idea of transformation appears more tiring and less shared, perhaps we simply need to double our effort, invest more of ourselves, and try to influence constructively the people around us.

This year as well, Cittadellarte has operated on both local and global levels: from China to Europe’s borderlands, from the Mediterranean to East Asia. Bringing an installation or a demopraxical work into places charged with history, conflict, or symbolism exposes art to unpredictable readings. How important is it for the Foundation to accept this risk?
In my view it is fundamental; moreover, this risk is everywhere. There are evident conflicts, perhaps more visible in the media or more destructive in terms of human lives, but socially they are now everywhere: from the infinitely small scale of a closed or compressed system like a family or a small community, to contexts we consider “normal” or of good quality of life, such as Biella or Italy. In reality, the amount of injustice, inequality, expressed or potential conflict is infinite. Therefore our model — which we can articulate through the Third Paradise, Demopraxy, and the State of the Art — is and must be applicable to all forms of conflict, both those evident in the geographical contexts where we recognize them and everywhere else, where they are very much present, perhaps hidden beneath the ashes of well-being.

In 2025, what does it mean to educate for responsibility in a world where algorithms, artificial intelligence, and automation seem to remove more and more space for conscious human action and, in this sense, authorship?
What comes immediately to mind is Umberto Eco’s distinction between the “apocalyptic” and the “integrated,” theorized decades ago in reference to the impact of media on humanity. Let us think about the development of new forms of communication and, specifically, the one I consider most incisive: the universe at our fingertips within our phones, with an infinity of advantages but also implications that for now are not yet measurable, because they will truly be so only in evolutionary terms. We will change the shape of our hands and we are already changing the shape of our minds.
Marshall McLuhan, in his best-known text, theorized the difference between hot and cool media based on the degree of user involvement and thus mutagenic potential, explaining how much influence television had on society. Let us instead focus on the advent of mobile phones: it has been infinitely more pervasive in our lives, because television is a choice — there are moments when we watch it — whereas the mobile phone is a constant, always with us. This device is truly modifying us, and at the moment not for the better: I cannot really see any real advantage if I observe adults compulsively checking social media or children whose consciousness is clouded by constant passive exposure to empty content. Building an education in communication and digital media would be truly essential; I would like it to become a school subject, starting almost from preschool, even to the point of prohibiting the use of certain tools. I am not at all in favor of order and discipline, but starting from families and close human relationships, a limit must be set, because we are simply constructing a sort of technofascism. With fake news and artificial intelligence, moreover, it is possible to steer masses in one direction or another. Richard Stallman — with whom Cittadellarte collaborated admirably many years ago — the principal theorist of free software and thus of freeing technology from the constraints of profit at all costs, is very worried about these drifts. Recently, in a conference at the Georgia Institute of Technology, he clearly stated that artificial intelligence — which we at Cittadellarte also use both as a practical tool and as an intellectual exercise through Michelangelo’s work — cannot be defined as intelligence, because it is simply a generator, a collector of already existing things where there is no discernment, no morality, no ethics in the choice of exposure. He speaks of “pretend intelligence,” something that claims to be intelligent but at the moment is not. We must therefore be careful, just as we should be alarmed by the fact that the internet has become a place of surveillance. The “technofascists” at the head of major digital corporations are taking control of the world without anyone ever having consciously chosen them. Let us reflect on every time we accept a license agreement without considering how much of ourselves we are giving away: in reality we are simply voting for them, voting for a future in which, under the universal illusion of being able to express ourselves through social media, we join a gigantic army of passive users where the human can no longer be distinguished from the machine.

During your time at Cittadellarte, what do you feel you have unlearned? Is there a conviction you would now let go of compared to the past?
Yes. I had the idea that there was more or less inherent in the nature of things the existence of a natural advantage — in terms of capacity, skills, and opportunities — capable of carrying us into the avant-garde. Someone destined to lead the way, as a figure with more access to knowledge, training, stimuli, or simply greater intelligence. For example, those of us who work at Cittadellarte have the possibility to see the world or be just one degree of separation from anyone. We therefore certainly belong to an avant-garde.
It is natural that an avant-garde should exist, but — not to quote Henry Ford (I am not at all Fordist) — I believe that a revolution, a social transformation, only truly makes sense when it becomes understandable to everyone. In this process, Cittadellarte has time on its side. On this theme, there is a quote I find significant from the novel "The Quiet Girl" (I quasi adatti) by Peter Høeg, a dystopian thriller:
“Where did you learn that?” I asked. “You didn’t know it before.”
“I grew up,” he replied. “That’s our possibility when time passes and we become adults.”
I began working at Cittadellarte when it was still “in kindergarten.” Its history is full of risks taken, opportunities seized and missed, turns I may not have shared but that came naturally. Over time, I think Cittadellarte has tried to put itself on the line in the most universal way possible. And what matters is the attempt, even more than the outcome. The outcome is also something beyond our control. The work we do in education — with children, young people, involving both art galleries and industrialists who normally would not engage with this kind of creativity — I like to think is an attempt to universalize this avant-garde. We must always try to ensure that social transformation is not only a virtuous example for the “few” who go to the Let Eat Bi market or visit Michelangelo’s exhibitions, but truly a small lever to reach more or less everyone. I believe that, despite infinite difficulties, we are trying. And so I feel I have unlearned the idea that it is natural for special things to be for a few.

Let us try to consider Cittadellarte as a living organism. Which part feels most fragile today? And which more mature than you might have imagined?
The part I feel most fragile today is Pistoletto’s legacy. I have been here for more than twenty years, so I also have a personal affection for him and take for granted that Michelangelo is here. His intellectual and artistic legacy will be enormous and will continue to guide Cittadellarte, but the human void he will leave frightens me, in a future I hope is as distant as possible.
Which part is more mature? The capacity to regenerate, and not in a utilitarian sense. If I observe Cittadellarte as a living organism, I see it constantly changing, even reorganizing and reorienting itself, yet never compromising what existed in potential. Just as a child at birth contains all possibilities, in the same way Cittadellarte, although it has evolved and above all passed through an infinity of people who have worked within or alongside it, has nevertheless remained an organism coherent with itself. This is a virtue, and I therefore recognize in Cittadellarte a robustness of constitution.

We live in a time when we are daily exposed to images of extreme suffering, yet we often remain motionless. What kind of emotion is indifference? If it were a work of art, would you destroy it like Pistoletto’s Breaking of the Mirror?
To answer, I will quote an excerpt from the text dedicated to the Breaking of the Mirror on Pistoletto’s website: “[…] a performance at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Santiago, Chile, on the occasion of his exhibition ‘Cada punto es el centro del universo, cada persona es el centro de la sociedad,’ in which the word that appeared on the colored surface beneath the broken mirrors was ‘comprender’ (to understand).”
Taking inspiration from the exhibition title, we cannot have an indifferent gaze toward anything, because every point is precious, every instant is precious, every person is precious. In what way can we, most naturally, avoid indifference? By understanding. More than once in previous interviews indifference has been defined as a natural defense mechanism, but I try never to remain indifferent. I can understand that in extreme urgency or necessity it may be used as a defensive strategy, but I prefer to try to use understanding, perhaps through light tools for reading the world, such as irony.
Emotional understanding for me is empathy, and if empathy exists, I find it hard to imagine indifference surviving. I always try to maintain an empathetic gaze, and therefore I am somewhat intolerant of indifference; it saddens me, I cannot turn away from a more intense and participatory gaze. I hope that the proactive effort to understand and put oneself in another’s place, comprehending what is happening, makes a convenient reaction such as indifference less likely. I also cite the book "Let Us Activate Ourselves – Impliquons-nous: Dialogue for the Century" by Edgar Morin and Michelangelo Pistoletto: as the title suggests, if we choose to become involved, to participate and commit ourselves, it is difficult to remain indifferent. Clearly we cannot apply ourselves to everything, but if we take as a motto “Impliquons-nous,” it becomes less likely to choose the convenient option of indifference.

In dominant and media narratives of conflict, numbers often replace faces. What responsibility does art have in restoring humanity where political language erases it? Can art reactivate empathy without falling into the spectacularization of pain? Let us also consider that the Oxford Dictionary’s word of the year 2025 is “Rage Bait,” indicating content created to provoke anger and indignation, particularly on social media.
I have partly already expressed myself in the previous answer. I believe art has a marvelous capacity to read reality through freer eyes, constructing higher and deeper narratives. The artist, in this sense, has a great responsibility. But not only that: the artist — today and always — is presumed to possess a talent, that of looking at the world with surprising eyes. And if the artist manages to bring the viewer to their side — and Michelangelo Pistoletto’s art does this, also for physical reasons — it cannot but increase sensitivity.
When the viewer enters the artwork, physically as in Michelangelo’s works or emotionally as in countless other works that involve you even if you cannot rationally explain why, you are already taking a step toward art. And art in itself can only entail an enlightened gaze upon the world. Therefore, when we see and enter a work of art, we improve ourselves a little and the world around us.

When you switch off the lights in your office, which emotion remains lit?
I will again quote Høeg’s novel The Quiet Girl. The author tells the story of a school in Scandinavia where they intended to “straighten out” children with deviations. Some of them, however, refused to fully follow the rules, and it was from them that change began. An excerpt from the book reads: “Some ate frogs” — it was one of the punishments — “others developed in the laboratory a theory about the universe.”
For me, being at Cittadellarte is a way of belonging, of having a reason, of feeling part of something important, of trying to change our time, our space, and our society with the tools we have in hand — with communication and with creation.