I initially enrolled in engineering, then switched to architecture, and started to develop expertise in the contemporary landscape, becoming increasingly aware that the revival of the wool mill could not be based on a purely economic strategy. What was needed was a cultural turnaround. If we couldn’t bring the mill back into the world, we had to bring the world to the mill.
Fuelled by the boldness of youth, in the late 1990s I launched Dinamismi Museali, a festival of contemporary thought featuring electronic music, performance art, and boundary-pushing design. For ten years, we brought international voices and perspectives to the mill in the heart of the Sila mountains—an approach I’ve never abandoned—asking designers to experiment by interpreting the work of the old machinery and its newly reimagined productive capacity.
Rather than youthful folly, it sounds like a bold and clear-sighted contemporary vision.
I have to smile when I think that my father gave me the middle name Salvatore (which means "saviour" in Italian): perhaps it was all part of his master plan. In the beginning, pure experimentation was our way of staying true to ourselves. No business plan could have led us to where we are today. The vision wasn’t just about using cultural tools instead of economic ones, but also about avoiding nostalgia. From the outset, I rejected the idea of turning the mill into a museum, putting the old machines on display and handing over a set of brass keys to a caretaker.
What is Lanificio Leo today?
It’s a contemporary laboratory, a creative hub open to external input and perspectives—even radically different ones. The mill operates much like a publisher, giving voice to individual designers and highlighting the idea that textiles are a key domain of Italian design—a surface of expression that still holds much to be explored.
Where does the artisan soul of the project lie?
In the high quality of the product, which often borders on uniqueness, and in our choice to craft it to the highest standards. I’m not interested in luxury as a status symbol—it’s a concept I find alien. What matters to me is the longevity of a product’s life, the sustainability of its production, its accessibility, and the message it conveys. Even machine production can be approached with an artisanal mindset: for example, we’ve done extensive work around the imperfections produced by historic, worn machines—highlighting their beauty and uniqueness.
That said, I’m not in favour of orthodoxy. Our approach has always been one of hybridisation, of blending craftsmanship and technology—an essential reserve of competitiveness for a company like ours.
How do you approach communication?
Historic companies tend to lean on reassuring communication that emphasises heritage and tradition. In our case, communication follows the many projects we’ve undertaken. There’s still room for us to grow in this area, and we know we could be more strategic. One change we’ve already made is to our company logo: we moved away from the lion—a clear symbol of strength, tied to our family name—and chose instead a lamb, which later evolved into a stylised sheep. It’s a more contemporary, and somewhat ironic, choice.
What role does the local territory play, and how is it reflected in the mill’s creations?
The territory has always been central to our experiments. I’ve never wanted to exploit it opportunistically, and I’ve always maintained a direct relationship with the area—choosing to live in this “periphery of the periphery” instead of moving to Milan, where building a network would be far easier. There’s still much to be done in terms of production: we need to anchor more stable skills locally so that the Lanificio’s story can be decoupled from mine. I’m not an artisan who takes his secrets with him when he leaves.
My Calabria—and the South in general—is also central to our content experiments, often viewed through an ironic and contemporary lens, as with the Tipicoatipico series of objects decorated with hand-applied rust printing using woodblocks. Ultimately, the territory, the people, and our art are the very essence of Made in Italy.
