From Mirrors to Windows

For the past twenty years, Lorenzo Senni has taken photographs every single day. Yet despite this unwavering commitment, his name resonates more in the music world, where he’s built a reputation as a visionary producer. His album, Scacco Matto (2020), released by the legendary WARP label, made him the first Italian artist to join the London-based imprint’s illustrious roster. But for Senni, visual art and music aren’t separate entities; they flow together, driven by a continuous creative tension where cross-pollination is, above all, conceptual.

His latest project, Windows to Look In, winner of the Italian Council 2023, marks his debut in a venture that combines photography with painting—an artistic territory he’s tackling for the first time. After exhibitions in some of Europe’s most notable institutions, the work is finally making its way to Italy, landing at the Istituto per le Arti Contemporanee (ICA) in Milan. On September 18, 2024, the ICA will also host the premiere of a documentary by Australian filmmaker Courtney Herrenberg, which chronicles Senni’s transformative encounter with American photographer John Divola. Adding to its prestige, “Windows to Look In” is now part of MAXXI L’Aquila’s permanent collection, the National Museum of 21st Century Arts.

The Pursuit of Pure Gesture

Let’s begin with Senni’s primary influence, which served as the catalyst for his aesthetic and conceptual shift in this project. “Dead Mirrors is a series of photographs from the 1970s by John Divola. It features various shapes, although mostly rectangular, painted onto the walls of abandoned spaces using reflective silver paint,” Senni explains. Divola first alters reality, then captures it. It’s this conceptual approach behind the action and photography that ignites Senni’s creative drive. “I’m interested in the reasoning behind reflection and all the aspects that define it, from the more technical ones to the philosophical ones.”

Senni remains close to the ethos of documentary photography, where the aim is to capture subjects as neutrally as possible. “My mentor is the Italian photographer Guido Guidi. The time I spent working closely with him has shaped me in a very, very particular way,” Senni shares. Reflecting on Guidi’s teachings, he continues, “Guido, like his colleagues and mentors, advocates for a pragmatic approach where one must photograph a place simply to show it as it is.” For many documentarians, this represents the purest form of photography. “By not striving to create an ‘artistic‘ image, the photographer is freed from preconceived ideas. The gesture is performed while trying to do the best job possible, allowing for an honest and uncalculated ‘expression’ that necessarily reflects their cultural, intellectual, and emotional background—yet is devoided of romanticism or artistic pretensions.” It’s about stripping away the ego, letting the photographer’s unique gaze to emerge through a neutral engagement with the photographic medium. It’s a form of art that doesn’t impose the artist’s presence, but allows a singular, inimitable vision to surface naturally, without the weight of artistic intent. The objective isn’t to create a masterpiece, but to observe the world with disarming sincerity and simplicity.

The same pragmatic philosophy, albeit less consciously constructed, can also be seen in Los Angeles’ “graffiti buffers”—quasi-mythical figures who roam the streets with buckets of paint, systematically covering street art with uniform gray squares, oddly reminiscent of Divola’s dead mirrors, as part of the city’s abatement program. While some of these buffers are paid, others take it upon themselves, acting with the same illicit fervor as the graffiti artists they seek to erase. “While their task may seem simple and unremarkable to many, each of them has their own style, a personal palette, a unique way of approaching the work,” Senni observes with fascination. What captivates him is the purity of their gesture: a utilitarian act that, in its simplicity, becomes something more profound—a form of personal expression. The most mind-bending discovery for Senni was learning that many of these buffers photograph their patches, “either as proof of a job completed or as a sort of trophy to show the neighborhood.” In that unpretentious click, Senni sees the same purity that photographers like Divola and Guidi strive for.

This is precisely the purity Senni has been confronting in Windows To Look In. As an artist, he too aspires to radicality, to be totally “pure.” But he knows this is an impossible goal—every gesture, no matter how simple, inevitably carries the weight of the artist’s creative background. And perhaps it’s precisely because of this tension that Senni has decided to create his own “windows,” pretending to cover something, only to photograph the act. “John [Divola] always said he started painting and photographing in abandoned places because he couldn’t afford a studio, and eventually, he integrated these settings into his artistic vision. Thanks to the Italian Council, I’ve been able to do it indoors for now. I only went outside when I wanted to test larger-scale ‘windows.’” Unlike Divola, who “vandalizes” abandoned spaces, or the LA graffiti buffers who practice a kind of “vandalism of vandalism,” Senni’s act in Windows to Look In becomes a conceptual form of vandalism. “It’s about vandalizing ego,” he asserts. In this work, the gesture challenges the artist’s obsession with creating something exceptional. “I’m interested in the idea of doing something without overthinking it,” Senni explains. “Using a near-automatic, repetitive gesture to see if you can forget the need to create something ‘artistically’ significant, and in doing so, making it more genuine, more sincere.” It’s a search for spontaneity that paradoxically requires well-defined strategies. “I like to think a lot before and after, but never during,” he admits. It’s in this suspension of creative thought that Senni strives to find his pure gesture.

Documenting a Practice: Between Concept and Technique

Yet the true work isn’t the painted “windows” themselves, but the photographs of them. Like Divola, Senni uses reflective paint to create these frames, allowing reflections to enter his pictures and play a central role, adding layers of meaning. Far from being visual effects to be avoided, these reflections are integral to the message. They tell a story not only of the artist’s techniques and experiments but also of the interpretation he leaves behind. On one level, they reveal his methods, layers, and experiments with light and shadow. On another, they hint at deeper philosophical meanings, inviting the viewer to question what they see and what lies beneath each image.

Senni, in particular, delves into what he calls “false reflectivity,” a quality he attributes to his windows: the appearance of reflection, both physical and conceptual, but in a partial, elusive way, hinting at layers of meaning that aren’t immediately apparent. “False reflectivity” becomes both an optical and psychological illusion, where the artist is subtly present without imposing himself, creating a sense of tension and ambiguity between visibility and invisibility, reality and perception, seeing and being seen. It’s an act of observing and self-observation, a negotiation with one’s own identity. He explains, “Your reflection, your silhouette, the flash of the camera bouncing off the paint—these are all traces of your presence. If you can’t avoid including them in your photograph, perhaps it’s a sign that you need to engage with them, start a dialogue with yourself, and confront the reality that you’re always there and always want to be (your ego).”

Senni’s work revolves around the interplay between gesture—whether artistic or not—and documentation. Photography allows him to capture a precise moment, using technical elements like reflections to add layers of meaning. But video, too, adds a new dimension to his practice. “When I was studying drums, my teacher told me to practice in front of a mirror so I could observe and correct my movements. I think it’s the same with my work. Even this documentary is a record of my practice, and as I speak, I learn something new about what I’m doing.” In this context, Courtney Herrenberg’s documentary promises to offer a fresh perspective on Senni’s work, delving into the complex interplays between reflection, self-awareness, and perception.