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Nicolò Spinelli

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About

Nicolò Spinelli (Monza, 1985) is an architect and designer. After graduating from the Politecnico di Milano and completing a Master’s in Museography and Archaeology in Rome, he founded his atelier in Monza in 2014. His research explores the boundaries between architecture and design, in dialogue with the artisanal tradition of his territory. His works, conceived as micro-architectures, combine constructive rigour with poetic tension. Reduction, proportion, and balance – inherited from the great Greek philosophers – are the principles that guide his practice. For Spinelli, inhabiting a space does not mean filling it, but rather creating room for the essence of the place itself – revealing its natural beauty.

SO

Your practice stems from an architectural education but moves beyond function to embrace poetic and spiritual suggestions. What does inhabiting a space mean to you?

NS

To inhabit a space means to be in harmony with it. As a designer, I know that what I do has the power to affect the mood with which people wake up in the morning and go to bed at night. In this sense, the architect carries a great humanistic responsibility.

SO

Your works seem to offer shelter in an age dominated by noise and speed. What value do silence and slowness hold for you?

NS

I always seek them – both in my work and in life. To devote oneself to something means to give it the right amount of time. Today, time is the most precious resource, yet also the hardest to manage. My spaces are slow because there is a need to slow down. This slowness translates into architecture and naturally becomes the thread that guides my work.

SO

Architettoniche Allusioni (“Architectural Allusions”) is the name of one of your most renowned collections, but also a perfect conceptual synthesis of your practice. From collectible design objects to furniture, from interiors to spatial projects, everything seems to invite contemplation. What is the secret that unites your creations?

NS

A continuous pursuit of order and composition. Louis Kahn maintained that, to achieve monumentality, architecture must preserve its own intrinsic order. The Allusioni are exercises in architectural composition, a serial exploration of balance and proportion.

Then there is the question of detail, which is always justified by a constructive principle. In each project, I enjoy giving these details a specific symbolism – something connected to the client or to myself. That’s where I look for poetry, even in projects that might not strictly need it. Detail reveals the sense of collaboration between designer and maker, and it is certainly one of the threads running through all my pieces. 

SO

Your projects convey a subtle balance between lightness and rootedness, between thought and matter. How do you cultivate this tension? 

NS

Through an approach of subtraction. Only in this way can matter express itself for what it truly is. Often, when people think of luxury, they associate it with the accumulation of ornament. For me, it’s the opposite. Reduction allows one to reach the pinnacle of material exploration.

Lina Bo Bardi encouraged young people to pursue simplification, both in pragmatic and formal terms. It’s an approach I tend to follow. This doesn’t mean remaining sterile, but rather achieving a clearer message.

SO

Your work evokes an idea of suspended, almost metaphysical time. What is your relationship with memory and with what endures?

NS

It’s a very important aspect for me, even though I know I don’t have full control over it. Every time I design something, I ask myself whether it fits the present – whether it feels fashionable. At the same time, I reflect on how that product will age. Ethically speaking, I believe projects should last as long as possible.

The connection with memory is inevitable. To reach synthesis, one needs analysis, which in turn stems from research. We are the sum of everything we have seen, read and listened to, much of which belongs to the past. In this sense, storytelling is also fundamental. If something can be told, it is successful, because it preserves its own synthetic principle. 

SO

In a visual landscape saturated with stimuli, what meaning does beauty hold for you?

NS

For me, beauty lies in what endures. I strive for what I design to stand the test of time. At the Politecnico, the word “beauty” is rarely used. Form arises on its own: beauty is what naturally emerges from a well-thought-out project. Yet it’s important that it doesn’t become the sole purpose.

There is, however, a universal beauty – that of nature and its landscapes. Nature is the finest designer of beauty. It strikes everyone, without requiring an effort of understanding. But how can that feeling be recreated? 

SO

If you had to imagine an ideal space – real or inner – to host your objects, what would it be like?

NS

As natural as possible. Aristotle defines the concept of “second nature”, a state of equilibrium achieved through ethical virtues, which can also be applied to human artefacts. A kind of “eudaimonia” – a perfect synthesis between all parts, so complete that it appears natural. That is what my ideal space should embody. It would probably please Aristotle. But I’ll stop here, otherwise I could go on for hours.