Why did I say yes? I hate writing. 
Writing about Jacopo and me, about our friendship, is a dangerous undertaking. In part because I am a secret creature and, in a way, so is he too, despite being a public figure. In part because emotional alchemy should remain in the shadows. But I find I can’t say no to Monica, Mrs Edra, for one simple reason: if she had not brought Jacopo over for breakfast years ago, I would not have a chosen brother, who is all the more precious for having been chosen. In my Dadaistically cynical way, I always say that partners come and go, but chosen brothers are forever. So, here I am, putting myself on the line, writing about us. Some of the pages of this Magazine are already dedicated to Jacopo the artist, to his wonders and to his creative greatness. My article is a portrait, a biography in 22 letters. Sentimental, (self-)ironic and Dadaist. 

A 

AMORE (LOVE). Jacopo’s obsession. He tells us he wants to find it. I don’t think that’s entirely true, any more than for anyone else, anyway. In the meantime, he gives a lot to a few (I am one of them) and he takes a lot from everyone. A warning to female browsers: handle with care. 

A is also for 

ARTIST. He is one, but he doesn’t know it. Seriously. He makes Cyclopean chandeliers, tables that change the concept of a table (see his first one, Capriccio), low tables that make Rome’s Quirinal Palace look cool (or serene, I think), one-of-a-kind chairs with a fragile, moving beauty and named after women who have a place in his heart (Margherita, Gilda, Ella, Gina). Then there are installations that will go down in Fuorisalone history: one being Limbo, the pink cloud in the portico of the university. A magnificent conceptual madness, but also probably one of the most photographed, Pinterest-pinned and social media cited works of our time. Jacopo is like that; he makes everything look so easy. Yet when they pay tribute to his career, he’s still a bit surprised. He doesn’t believe it deep down. He’s an artist in part because he’s fragile.

B

BOBBIO. The buen retiro. A little Greek house with fiery red shutters that looks like something out of a fairy tale. Built almost entirely with his own hands, it has a large square table in the kitchen where you eat, eat, eat (see under F) and a battered, acid-green Boa sofa, a tribute to the Campana Brothers. It’s one of the places of Jacopo’s soul.

C

CHARLIE. Life partner, Steve McQueen cut, muscular physique, untamed, adventurous, strong, male. The two revere one another. He comes from a kennel. He’s the boyfriend of Olivia, my roommate, a hound. He taught her to dive from a boat and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Which makes Jacopo and I in-laws. Don’t laugh, it’s true. 

D 

DESIGN. What is it? ‘A marvellous game’. Sic dixit.

E 

EDRA. His home, his association with Valerio and Monica. The creative space for dialogue and growth, for Jacopo and the Mazzei family. Their visions, challenges, enthusiasm, emotions, achievements, mutual respect and poetry. Whenever I’ve accompanied Jacopo to bring them prototypes for an upcoming show, you can feel it. It’s pure power. 

F

FRIDGES/FOOD. Jacopo can open the fridge of an uninhabited house and seat eight guests in fewer than 20 minutes, serving a very fine dinner. If you ask him to teach a recipe, he gets very impatient. He invents his recipes on the spot, with a sensitivity for ingredients and their unexpected connections that’s incredible. His spaghetti with bottarga, lemon and other random things is worthy of applause. 

G 

GROTTA. The Grotta Foggini cave in Egypt. It was discovered by Jacopo (legend has it, on his way to wee) and his father, an industrialist from Turin, a larger-than-life character, an extraordinary explorer and adventurer with absolute charisma. He and Jacopo pointed their jeep towards Gilf Kebir, a plateau on the border with Libya, where, in a cave, they came across rock engravings so extraordinary that the place is now referred to as ‘the Sistine Chapel of prehistoric Egypt’. It’s one of the most important archaeological sites in the world, but before their discovery was recognised, there were adventures worthy of Indiana Jones, with spies, real villains, chases, embattled diplomats, double-crosses and many dangers. But that’s a whole other story.

H 

HOTEL. His favourite was the George V in Paris. His father lived there for 30 years. With his usual understatement, he insists that he loved it before they renovated it.

I

INDIA. We discovered ourselves there, in Kerala, at Somatheeram. He, a regular, I a battered neophyte. That was Christmas a few years ago and since then it’s been a regular appointment that regenerates us both in different ways. I’ve discovered yoga and keep bringing banned foods (and he looks at me with ill-concealed disdain). 

K 

KINTSUGI. In Japan, broken bowls are repaired with gold. In the West, it has taken on the meaning of not hiding one’s wounds, but proudly displaying them. We are also, perhaps more than anything, our wounds. This is a subject of endless debate. Jacopo is a man of Savoyard reserve.

L

LIBERTY. Is Jacopo a free man? I often ask myself that. His demons, his upbringing and his sensitivities sometimes weigh him down. 

M 

MARE (SEA). Jacopo, despite being very Turin-based, has an amazing aquatic ability. His relationship with water, with sea creatures, with transparencies is what I think has influenced him a lot in his work. That thread of methacrylate becomes objects and installations reminiscent of coral reefs. Blues and turquoises are much more than colours for him, they are the essence of a part of himself. That’s why the latest collection is emotionally special. It’s no coincidence that he chose the name A’ mare.

N 

NARCISSUS. He’s a big narcissist, but he’s also Peter Pan, Ulysses and the Little Prince. 

O

OYSTERS. His father had an oyster farm in Brittany. He loves them.

P

PONZA. My island, which is now also a bit his. We go out by boat with the dogs, hot pizza and iced wine. Hours on the water. His greatest pleasure? Disentangling the anchors of neighbouring vessels. So many people have tried to tip him that it could make it his livelihood. He dives down and, when he resurfaces, he has a look of pure triumphant joy. 
POLIPO (OCTOPUS). He has one tattooed on his arm. There are many octopuses, in a wide variety of materials, scattered around his houses. 

Q 

QUI E ORA (HERE AND NOW). It’s my mantra and for some time now, it’s been partly his mantra too.

R

ROMEO AND LARA. The Gigli. They are some of the founders of his tribe of loved ones. Romeo raised him and the creativity of a generous, visionary, absolute genius made Jacopo what he is today: a different kind of visionary in turn. Their relationship, like the one with Lara, is extraordinarily beautiful and powerful.

S

SEDUCTION. He exerts it on almost everyone. Like most artists, he longs to be loved. He usually succeeds.

T

TOMMASO. His son. Sometimes also his father. Wise, bright, solid. He’s the best son a person could wish for. He deserves his own biography.

U

UMORALE (MOODY). Terribly moody.

V

VASCA DA BAGNO (BATHTUB). He spends at least an hour there every day. He gets interviewed, talks on the phone, reads, imagines objects, jobs, relationships. It’s his non-place par excellence.

Z

ZINGARO (VAGRANT). Traveller, especially of inner emotions, sensitive, for better or for worse, and bad-tempered, often unbearable, very generous, brilliant.
This is how I see Jacopo Foggini.

Diamante D’Alessio Journalist in the most disparate newspapers (recent positions director of Style Piccoli and Io Donna), now, among the most varied Dadaistic companies, she produces oil in Siena, collaborates with the Marsilio publishing house, is among the shareholders of the publishing house La Nave di Teseo and of the Academy of Creative Writing, Molly Bloom. She supports the CUAMM, Doctors with Africa (www.mediciconlafrica.org), of which she has the privilege of being part of the Board of Directors.