The Art of Persistence

Jacopo Mazzonelli (b. 1983, Italy) trained as a pianist in a family that was—as Mazzonelli puts it—maniacal about art. While his father was an abstract painter, and his brother an art critic, his own background was entirely musical—a degree in piano, followed by studies in contemporary music composition. That was until he began making sculptures. For him, this was work that investigates what he calls “sound without music.” His current practice features the deconstruction of instruments, followed by their reassembly in a manner that examines the gesture of playing, the perception of rhythm, and the passage of time. While scoring music for historical video art, including works by René Clair and others, the artist set out to explore synesthetic possibilities, or ways for music and image to interact. 

From this inquiry, emerges his new installation Persistence (which opened at Museo d'Arte e Centro per l'Arte Contemporanea, Bologna on January 22, 2026). The title operates on multiple registers producing the persistence of sound, infinite like a river, with continuous changes through time and space. The installation comprises 24 organ pipes fabricated by specialists in Italy in workshops that Mazzonelli considers artist spaces—everything built by hand with wood and metal, even lead. The pipes descend from largest to smallest, each one two or three millimeters shorter than the next, following the musical frequency with mathematical precision. The same sound plays through each pipe, but the varying lengths and positions modulate it differently. Place a speaker in different locations with different materials, and the sound transforms. 

There’s an inversion at play as well. In churches, sound travels upward. Its physical manifestations tied to frequency, are also symbolic of a heavenward motion, whether in Gothic spaces or more contemporary places of worship. In contrast, Mazzonelli’s pipes point toward the floor, suggestive of spiritual versus human, sacred versus earthly. The installation creates what the artist calls a “geometrical jungle,” a freeze-frame of an explosion suspended in space. Visitors navigate corridors between the pipes, their heads moving through shifting layers of tone that collectively form this river of sound. Mazzonelli’s musical background is evident in this entirely new architecture.

Charles Moore: I really like the title of the show Persistence. But I’m curious, what does that title speak of to you?

Jacopo Mazzonelli: It’s about a sound that is ever-present—infinite, you might say. It’s like a river that remains the same but modulates along the way. There is a theme about music because, in musical notation, music is made by notes conveying both sound and silence. The same with writing. In this installation, there is a negotiation of the pause, as if the silence is punctuating its persistent movement in time and space. So, conceptually, that is the core of this large installation. 

Charles: And how did you source materials like these?

Jacopo: From a builder of organs here in Italy. It’s a very specialized trade. There are some builders who have these little workspaces where they do everything for the organ with wood, with lead, and with tin. These places are like an artist’s space. 

Charles: Tell me about the installation.

Jacopo: I’ll show you pictures of the base materials of the installation … Over here are the pipes. There are altogether 24 pipes, from the largest and longest to the smallest. Every single pipe is about two or three millimeters shorter and narrower than the last. It’s very mathematical because it’s about the frequency of music. The idea is to use the same sound in every one of these 24 pipes, but that sound is modulated through the different lengths and areas. If you put a speaker in different positions or with different materials, the sound changes.

Another concept is that in a church, traditionally, the sound goes upward. In organ music—from Gothic to contemporary—the architecture is made to have the sound reflect on the ground and then return to the interior. It’s physical, it’s about frequency; but it’s also symbolic. My installation is the opposite because the pipes go in the direction of the floor. I think it’s an interpretation of opposites: spiritual versus human, earthly versus heavenly.  

I have some photos for you of the spaces and a video. 

Charles: Yes, please show them.

Jacopo: Okay, this is the space. This is the entrance. It’s like a “white cube,” and it’s similar in dimension to my studio. Here’s another photo. It’s a very rough sketch I made, but it gives you an idea of the layout. My idea was to create a large installation of pipes. Imagine you took a screenshot of an explosion of these pipes frozen in space. It is like a geometrical jungle. The visitor can walk around and through the space, moving their head and listening to every single pipe. You could call it a complex of several distinct sounds to produce a river of sound. This is my concept. 

Charles: I can already visualize it.

Jacopo: And technically, if you see the first photo, I use the space—about three meters—between the two light rails, one on the left and one on the right; then I use the rail on the wall. There is a space in the ceiling that I use for cables. I adapted both the ground floor and the ceiling. 

Charles: And what about the lighting for such a large installation?

Jacopo: The lighting is concentrated in the center. The visitor can walk around it, but they can also enter through these “corridors.” I think the best way for me to explain this is to do a small model to understand the direction. You need to have the right depth and the right aperture. I think it’s theatrical because there are layers. I want to create layers as if one had a camera in their hand; the image changes if you are in front or if you are in the center of the room. It’s like entering a forest. What do you think about it?

Charles: Ingenious. I also wanted to ask about your musical training—your background.

Jacopo: My formation is entirely in music. I started playing piano when I was young; then I took a degree in piano and studied contemporary music. After the degree, I started composing music for early video art—historical video art like René Clair’s 1924 film Entr'acte or the Rotoreliefs by Marcel Duchamp. I was interested in all that early video art because I wanted to enlarge the possibility of interaction between music and image. Then I started to produce sculptures with a focus on musical instruments. In general, I do research about music or sound, but “without the music” because I am not a sound artist.

Charles: And do you actually interact with these musical installations?

Jacopo: Yes, for the past eight years, I found a way to interact with my artworks by producing pieces that I can actually play. I have different projects: one is about collecting unusual instruments for me and my wife—who is a pianist—and we play them at performances. Other performances are with my own sculptures. There are different ways to expand and activate the artistic work. But I have no formal art training though my father was an abstract artist and my brother is an art critic. In my family, we are maniacs about art.

Charles: Awesome! And who might you say are your biggest influences? Because just hearing you speak and doing some research on your work, some artists come to mind. Like Marcel Duchamp with his deconstruction of systems, and figures from Dada and Fluxus. I’m thinking about music architecturally. Even contemporary artists like Christian Marclay that translate sound into a visual form. Do any of those artists resonate with you, or are there other artists who are more inspirational?

Jacopo: I think it’s a little bit strange because my influences are often artists who do not use sound in their artworks, or contemporary composers. I think Hungarian composer György Ligeti is my absolute reference. This goes back many, many years. I try to apply the same compositions to my artwork that you would use in a musical composition. Though they’re invisible, they’re architectural. 

Rebecca Horn also influences my artworks. I went to the Castello di Rivoli in Turin for her last retrospective. But by far, my favorite artist is Robert Gober. His language is very different from mine, but the power to speak to the human body in that way draws me because it is so rigorous. When I started studying his history and works, I discovered that he does everything himself, every part of his sculptures. When he has to construct a new sculpture with a different material, he learns how to do it himself. I too do everything myself. It’s a method of control over the work, a ritual of working—like playing an instrument—to repeat, repeat, repeat, to discover, to get lost, and to repeat again. My background in music, especially in a discipline like piano which is so demanding, has influenced me a lot.

There are other Italian artists, like Claudio Parmiggiani, whose work I love so much. And I like Arcangelo Sassolino because of this “war” between interior and exterior—using materials like glass and industrial materials with such tension and release. Such an inspiration! 

And who are your favorites?

Charles: At the moment, I’m spending a lot of time with, for example, Kiki Smith. She is an artist I researched during my Master’s degree, so I was really blown away by the opportunity to meet her. Over the last few months, we have developed a little friendship. I’ve been to her studio and seen the way she works and thinks. I also like performance artists like Anne Imhof. Of course, I’ve been a fan of George Condo for a long time—seeing his paintings in person is like daydreaming. You can see through the lines that his brushstrokes and pen strokes are almost carefree, yet controlled. Effortlessly perfect.

Jacopo: I’m fascinated by Kiki Smith too because I imagine she has a very deep personality. I imagine she’s obsessed with work and research. I like artists who are honest about their work in spite of all their success. Not everyone is like that. 

Charles: And, speaking of repetition—this repeating of motifs that you mentioned is something I find both intriguing and challenging. Tell me, how do you continuously work with sound objects and pianos and keep your work so alive and fresh?

Jacopo: Because I keep up with important research on materials and forms. To me, that is the deepest meaning of “contemporary.” That kind of work inspires me. 

Charles: Tell me about these works.

Jacopo: Here are compositions by György Ligeti like Atmosphères, Continuum, or Clocks and Cloud, that have the right “soul.” I listened to them while working on Persistence— they were almost speaking to each other. There is another reference, a very short passage in Igor Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring called “Le Sage.” It’s only two or three bars where the orchestra makes a large, “materic” or material-like sound. Many years ago, I tried to take this very sound and make it infinite. The idea of taking a sound, an image, or a material and enlarging it for eternity—like in a photo—is very important for me because in several artworks I try to suspend time. Without silence and without pauses, there can be no narrative just like in a book, a romance, or a poem. 

Charles: Do those pauses have an effect on the viewer?

Jacopo: Yes, for me, it’s a strategy to engage the viewer. I think the listener or observer does the other half of the work. It’s like a large glass and you don’t know if it’s full of water or completely empty. In this installation, sound is like a mirror that reveals the mind and the body. It doesn’t change reality, but it changes something inside of you.