Fakewhale in dialogue with Valentino Catricalà
We’ve followed Valentino Catricalà’s curatorial work for years, drawn to his ability to navigate the evolving landscape of technological art with both theoretical rigor and critical insight. His practice strikes a rare balance between historical research and contemporary innovation, moving fluidly between established institutions and experimental contexts, from pioneers of media art to emerging AI-driven practices. At Fakewhale, we sat down with him to explore how his curatorial vision connects past, present, and future, treating curating itself as a form of research.
Fakewhale: Your curatorial practice is grounded in a strong theoretical foundation and a historical focus on the pioneers of media art, yet it also seeks to anticipate the urgencies of today’s technological landscape. How do you balance these two poles, tradition and innovation, when shaping your exhibitions?
Valentino Catricalà: My practice is fundamentally shaped by the precise historical shift you’re asking about, a shift I feel I have personally witnessed, the end of an era in media art. My early experience confirmed that Media Art was a niche. If you wanted to see it, you had to go to the few specialized institutions like ZKM, Ars Electronica, or FACT in Liverpool. Furthermore, the artists themselves largely operated outside the traditional art world, often working in research centres and universities rather than with private galleries or collectors. Today, that distinction has been virtually annulled. Art and technology are everywhere, and the relationship with media for new generations is entirely fluid. This dramatic evolution is the essential premise for how I balance the two poles. I approach this balance not as a struggle, but as establishing a critical continuity that demonstrates the historical rigor of the field while addressing the urgency of the present.
In your work, curation often emerges as a form of research, almost like a laboratory. In what sense do you see it not only as an activity of selection and presentation, but also as a tool for generating knowledge and opening new questions about technology?
I believe your question gets to the heart of what a curator’s role must be today. I agree that curating risks losing its meaning when we see the phenomenon of ‘overcurating’, where major events are ‘curated by’ a name, often without a strong underlying thesis. If curating becomes mere event organizing, it loses its intellectual rigor. This is why I insist on getting back to the origins of curatorship and embracing a research-first approach. For me, the power of curating, and where it becomes a knowledge-generating laboratory—is defined not just by what it is, but by what it is not. A curator is not just a researcher, an organizer, a manager, or a fundraiser. What makes the difference is the strong research identity, vision, style, and language that a curator brings. This research-led approach confirms why writing is still a very important activity today.
Looking at your experiences across very different institutions, from MAXXI to the Balloon Museum, what do you see as the most significant differences in how audiences are conceived and in the ways people engage with technological artworks?
My experience across vastly different institutional types has taught me that the biggest difference lies in the institution’s primary connection between strong quality exhibitions and audience involvement. Museums are shifting from being just exhibition spaces to “socializing places and community creators.” In this context, innovation can play a big role, but it must understood not just a technological matter. This necessitates a more comprehensive definition of innovation that includes accessibility, community, and audience experience, not just a tech app. Artists working with technology can bring very urgent contemporary issues and new language experimentation. We need to create “innovation through the artists that use technology today”, using their critiques of technology to drive institutional change.
In the inaugural exhibition at Modal Gallery, Slip.Stream.Slip, you placed game engine culture at the center as a metaphor for the present. How do you think the language of gaming and simulation is reshaping the aesthetic and political categories through which we read contemporary society?
The founding of the new art center in Manchester was an opportunity to build a narrative that spoke directly to the present moment. Working with Toby Heys, the former Head of SODA, we felt a profound urgency to articulate the core mechanism driving contemporary life. That mechanism was the Game Engine. We quickly expanded the concept to “Game Engine Culture” because the implications had moved far beyond gaming itself. The very software structures, the physics, rendering, and logic systems, developed for video games have now become the foundational architecture of information access. From the filters on social media to the predictive models of AI, we are engaging with the world through a gamified, rendered process. Our curatorial decision was a direct response to this totalizing shift: the exhibition was not a look at video game art, but a necessary exploration of our contemporary cultural condition.
What do you think are the most urgent questions to raise today when discussing AI in the artistic field?
The most urgent question is: what do we actually mean by AI? Until we define the specific nature of the technologies we’re talking about we risk operating in a state of conceptual anxiety.
How do you envision AI transforming the art world in the future?
Like every significant new technology, AI is poised to modify important aspects of how we work and live, but it absolutely will not replace either. The art world will be modified, but its core function will remain. Working with technology inherently means being ready to collaborate with new tools; it’s in technology’s nature to constantly change. AI is best viewed as a powerful assistant. It can significantly help institutions by improving museum identity, streamlining collection management, and enhancing exhibition planning. For artists, it can serve as a potent creative tool, as many are already proving. The only way to move past the current panic is through knowledge and deep engagement. We must remember that AI is not a god; it is merely a complex set of algorithms. The true benefit to the art world will only come if we force ourselves to go deeper and truly understand its mechanisms.”
Projects such as the Balloon Museum have shown that immersive and participatory exhibitions can attract vast audiences, far beyond the usual art-world circles. What is your critical perspective on this phenomenon? Do you see immersivity as a way to “democratize” access, or does it risk remaining primarily a spectacle?
The art world is indeed caught in a false dichotomy: the anxiety that increased audience access must automatically equate to a loss of critical depth. This “we need more audience, but oh no, this is too pop!”. The artworld is stratified, there is no just one way to make exhibition. I have done research based exhibition (such as Dara Birnabum at Prada Foundation) and large audience exhibition (such as Bill viola at Palazzo Reale in Milan or Euporia at Le Grand Palais). For me, the key is the quality. A large-scale project can, and often must, be more experience-based for a large audience, but this only works if the research and artistic vision are strong.
Have you ever partnered with companies for your projects? If so, what opportunities and risks do you see in this kind of transdisciplinary approach?
Early in my career I was an outsider to the art world, which necessitated that I invent new ways of financing and working with partners. This necessity forged a transdisciplinary approach that is now central to my practice. This led to pioneering strategic collaboration models across different institutions. For example, while directing the Media Art Festival at MAXXI Museum in Rome, along with the promoter, Fondazione Mondo Digitale, we invented the artists’ residencies within company venues, giving artists direct access to technical expertise. Similarly, in Manchester, our focus was on deep collaboration with tech and innovation companies. I also actively sought out players completely outside the traditional art sphere, such as my work with the Sony Lab in Paris. These were not just sponsorships; they were essential, collaborative partnerships designed to secure funding, technical expertise, and a new institutional home for new kind of art projects.
In recent years, you’ve worked with very diverse artists, from pioneers of video art to experimenters with AI and blockchain. Is there a common thread in your choice to collaborate with these artists? Is there something you always look for in their practice?
As I’ve mentioned, the media art history often suffers from historical amnesia, where many curators today focus only on the current trendsetters, often artists belonging to the generations born in the 80s and 90s, and pick the same few names. I believe it is a curatorial imperative to put the pioneers in direct relationship with the new generations, as we did in Manchester by connecting past and present around urgent contemporary topics, such as the exhibition of Cecile B. Evans following Rebecca Allen’s solo show.
Looking ahead, between your roles at ZKM and ESEA Contemporary and your ongoing international projects, what directions are you most interested in exploring further? Is there a theme, a format, or a context you already recognize as your next curatorial challenge?
The most immediate and significant development is my move to Saudi Arabia, transitioning from Manchester to a completely different cultural and institutional landscape. I have taken on the role of setting up a new, large-scale project for the Saudi Ministry of Culture. This represents a profound professional and personal shift, offering me the unprecedented opportunity to forge an entirely new research path within a vastly different context. It is, without a doubt, a major new challenge.
fakewhale
Founded in 2021, Fakewhale advocates the digital art market's evolution. Viewing NFT technology as a container for art, and leveraging the expansive scope of digital culture, Fakewhale strives to shape a new ecosystem in which art and technology become the starting point, rather than the final destination.
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