Earth’s Raw Textures meet Human Invention in Quiet Metamorphosis.

Edoardo Cozzani
New York City, USA

Edoardo Cozzani’s work explores the fragile dialogue between nature and the man-made — transforming raw materials into poetic, timeworn forms that echo memory, erosion, and renewal.

The Bio

Italian-born and New York-based, Edoardo Cozzani (b. 1993, Rome) navigates the liminal spaces between nature and the artificial, matter and context. His multidisciplinary practice—the result of lived journeys through deserts, swamps and mountains—uses experimental photography, analog sculptural techniques and site-specific interventions to probe how materials evolve, accumulate history and bear witness to human intervention. Cozzani’s recent work transforms marble, glass, aluminum and unexpected found matter into “modern fossils” that invite reflection on time, landscape and our imprint on both.

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The Products

- Torre II
- Price on request
- Edoardo Cozzani

The Conversation

You’ve been many things—law student, photographer, now a designer/artist shaping marble, glass, and metal. What was the hinge moment when “design” stopped being a detour and became home?

I don’t think there was ever a moment in which I didn’t feel like home doing design. It just naturally happened and felt right. Using functionality while playing with material research made sense and it expanded the level of complexity of my work. When I started making the first sculptural projects I met with David from Viso Projects who offered me a solo show in his gallery, the condition was to make the pieces functional. I saw that as an opportunity to expand on concept and use the translucidity of Materia Viva as a vehicle for creating a series of unique lighting sculptures: Life Synthetic It felt like an organic transition that would only strengthen the conceptual research and open new roads for interesting ideas and opportunities.

Your work circles metamorphosis—matter in flux, nature’s cycles. In the studio right now, what material is teaching you the most, and what is it asking you to unlearn?

At the moment I am very interested in strengthening the interconnections between the different practices while discovering new industrial and synthetic objects that echo shapes and forms present in nature. The one I’m finding really intriguing to play with is metal mesh. It can easily turn into bone structures or scales, making think of some fossilized version of a creature that has never been but could exist considering the current trajectories of synthetic engineering.

3.“Vessels” at Alcova felt like objects mid-becoming—useful yet mythic. When you’re making, how do you decide where function ends and ritual begins?

I would see it the other way around: the function begins when the ritual ends. But the ritual can start again once the work is completed. The mythical aspect of the work comes first when the elements that generate the piece first meet and dance with each other. When the shape is set and solidified and it feels right they are puzzled together in order to give them a purpose. And eventually when the puzzle is presented the ritual is brought back to life by the dialogue established with the viewer.

You split roots—born in Rome, living in Brooklyn. What traces of each city live in your hands when you carve or cast, and how do those geographies shape your sense of time?

I think of cities like Rome and New York as gravitational bodies: the first is layered from the surface into the underground, while the latter is built from the surface toward the sky. This has an effect on their inhabitants: Romans take their time in making decisions — the pace is slower, and the weight of time grounds them. New Yorkers, on the other hand, are lifted above the ground by a city that grows at the same pace as the decisions in their lives. I try to learn from both ways of living — to reflect on the importance of the past that defines the present, while remaining open to the potential trajectories of the future. The choice of materials and processes I apply often reflects the tension between the influences I absorbed from living in Rome and New York: using stone — heavy, hard, and difficult to shape — in contrast with glass, which is light, malleable, yet fragile. This contrast echoes the friction between past, present, and future.

In the present tense: what does your studio look, sound, and smell like today—and which small, ordinary ritual keeps you anchored through a long day of making?

The sound, smell, and look of my studio shift with every project. As a multimedia artist and designer, I move across different tools and machinery, each serving a specific process, often scattered across cities and countries. I currently work between New York, Venice, and Carrara — from glass workshops and stone yards to darkrooms and a convent in Greenpoint, where I keep work that is not on view organized, create smaller-scale pieces, and design larger-scale works that are brought to life through a combination of my own sculptural practice and the expertise of local manufacturers. Each space leaves its imprint, shaping both the work and the process itself.

Looking ahead to your next body of work, what question do you hope the object will answer that the last one couldn’t—and who do you imagine standing in front of it at The Orb, feeling that answer land?

In my next body of work, I would like to focus on the notion of the absence of space and explore the question: where does this come from? The sculptural pieces I am interested in creating for the Orb are the result of stone extraction. Every element taken from the land where it belongs leaves a mark, revealed by the void that remains. I aim to combine sculptural and photographic practices. Photographs of the quarries from which the stone is extracted will be presented as large canvases, in front of which the stone and glass figures will stand as a testimony to the human intervention on the land from which they originate. This would be the perfect opportunity to reconnect with the land art work that first drew me into material exploration and inform my most recent practice. The ideal viewer is someone curious about what an object represents and what its transformation signifies.