An exhibition about exhibitions. Art and dialectics from Ghezzi to the contemporary era

Philippe D’Averio used to joke about the poor canvas condemned to hang opposite Leonardo’s “Mona Lisa” in the Louvre gallery: who on earth would pay any attention to it? One need only reflect for a moment on this situation to realise that discussing exhibition layouts which influence the value and meaning of the works on display is not merely rhetorical but, in fact, a matter of substance. ‘Expositio Mundi. The Exhibition as Medium’, curated by Lorenzo Benedetti with Giuliana Pascucci and running in Macerata until 10 January 2027, invites us to turn our attention to this issue. The works are spread out – très chic – across the Civic Museums of Palazzo Buonaccorsi, the Mozzi-Borgetti Library and the Sferisterio. An exhibition about the act of displaying, about the history of exhibition design, about the exhibition of art. In an eminently reflective and dialectical gesture, Benedetti speaks of exhibitions as “anti-negation” – in the Hegelian sense of thesis, antithesis, synthesis. Yet the exhibition does not shy away from the concrete nature of historical inquiry; thus, the exhibition begins with the work of Giuseppe Ghezzi (1634–1721) from the Marche region – a painter and man of letters associated with the Arcadia movement, but above all a prototype of the modern curator.

Based in Rome, he organised public exhibitions of private collections at San Salvatore in Lauro, not so much by inventing the practice of the modern exhibition as by codifying its structure as a critical endeavour. For example, ‘his refusal in 1716 to move the altarpieces by Guercino and Guido Reni from key positions to make way for works on loan from Cardinal Paolucci aroused persistent resentment and bitterness’, writes Pascucci in his catalogue essay. Thus, Ghezzi’s manuscript – a valuable source for studying his modus operandi – and his exhibited paintings, including a portrait of Gian Lorenzo Bernini, require a space that places them in dialogue with the rest of the contemporary artists on display: Adelaide Cioni constructs this dialogue with a site-specific installation of cotton sheets, a labyrinth that evokes the Baroque and theatrical gesture of veiling and unveiling – so seventeenth-century and yet so contemporary. But there are many names on display: Paolini and Beuys, to begin with, followed by a neon work by Nannucci. Speaking of neon, the interplay of light and shadow is also very Baroque – phos, light; phainomai, to appear; ah, Ancient Greek – thank you, classical secondary school. From the spacious, sun-drenched Sferisterio, an exceptional nineteenth-century open-air theatre, to the shadowy corridors of the library, which houses Laura Paoletti’s twilight-themed work. There are many works that are ‘irresponsible towards the past’, as Michele Ciacciofera puts it in reference to his paintings that reinterpret Renaissance works.

The study on Ghezzi, however, is thoroughly thorough, not only in examining his concept of the exhibition as a critical gesture but also as a catalyst at the heart of “a threefold dynamic: it broadens knowledge, educates an audience and enhances the cultural value of the works through their visual circulation”, as Benedetti writes in the catalogue essay. The democratisation of art as early as the seventeenth century. Ghezzi was keen to exhibit works for educational purposes for artists, but not only that; his exhibitions were open to everyone. And since the meaning and value of a work are also shaped by those who engage with it, “the public is transformed from consumer to producer”. In homage to this Duchampian idea, “Expositio Mundi” is complemented by “3500 cm2”, a project by Benedetti that distributes posters free of charge to visitors, thereby turning their own homes into exhibition spaces as well.

At the Louvre, the painting in front of the Mona Lisa is Veronese’s “Le nozze di Cana”. Fortunately, the exhibition context is not the be-all and end-all, and we can say that it is a beautiful and interesting work. But “Expositio Mundi” intelligently questions the way we experience art, and the light it sheds on Ghezzi is a valuable contribution to a history of the gaze.