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Futuro Antico. Interview with Fabio Pusterla

Aug 25, 2023

Marco Bassan

The sense of wonder is the starting point for those who write, and it is nourished by life and books. This is the inspiration of Fabio Pusterla, who envisions a future with an ancient heart.

What are your sources of inspiration in art?


I would say life and books. Life, because it's from concrete experience that, for me, the necessity and possibility of writing poetry emerge. Books, because the attempt to write must constantly be nourished by reading and dialogue with other authors, both from the present and the past. Both life and books sometimes evoke in me a sense of surprise and wonder: that's where writing begins. Marino wrote, "the poet's goal is wonder." As for me, I would reverse that statement: wonder is the starting point.


What is the project that represents you the most? Can you tell us about its genesis?


I've written about ten poetry books, but I wouldn't use the term "project." For me, poetry doesn't come from a precise plan; it knocks on the door unexpectedly. You let it in, not fully understanding who this mysterious visitor is, and then you wait for it to grow. Eventually, the book arrives, and slowly you begin to understand what happened: if there was a project, it was hidden or unconscious. I feel differently represented by all the books I've tried to write; some were born in a truly chaotic way, others with a bit more initial awareness. But all of them, much like children, I understood better afterwards.

What importance does the Genius Loci  have in your work?


Very little, I would say. Places are very important, but the supposed or presumed "genius" much less so. My relationship with tradition and with mentors works in a similar way: some of them belong to the "locus" where I mainly move (Lombardy and Italian-speaking Switzerland), while others are very distant in both space and time. One of them, the French poet Philippe Jaccottet, placed great importance on the Provençal landscape where he lived and managed to distill something that could indeed resemble a Genius Loci.

I was born on the border between Italy and Switzerland, and fifty years later I realized that my "place" has a very different name: the Padana megalopolis. If I ever had to think of a "genius," I would have to search for it in this dimension; and it would probably be a genius with wings of tar.


How important is the past for imagining and building the future? Do you believe the future can have an ancient heart?


"The world to come must be made up of what has passed. There is no other material available," wrote Cormac McCarthy in his novel Cities of the Plain. The future, if a future is possible, always has an ancient heart. But McCarthy continued: "Yet I believe he saw the world unravel at his feet. The procedures he had adopted for his journey now seemed to him an echo of the death of things. I believe he saw the advent of a terrible darkness." The answer today lies between these two polarities—one hopeful and the other quite the opposite.

What advice would you give to a young person who wants to follow your path?


Read a lot, be very patient. And keep the fire hidden in secret.


In an era defined by post-truth, does the concept of the sacred still hold importance and power?


The idea of the "sacred," which for me is completely separate from that of "religion," seems fundamental; perhaps even more so today, in a world that is almost entirely commodified and subjugated. Preserving the space for the sacred is an act of resistance and hope.


How do you imagine the future? Can you give us three ideas that you think will guide the coming years?


I don't know, and I don't want to imagine the future; I would like to make a small contribution to its survival. To give it a chance. Andrea Zanzotto, asked about this half a century ago, said that if the human species managed to survive the next 20 or 30 years, it might make it; today, we might answer in much the same way, perhaps with even greater concerns.

As for ideas, I'd say there are at least two or three fundamental issues. The first is the environmental crisis. Then, the urgent need to redistribute wealth at every level. Finally, the recovery of political representation and planning, which today seems almost completely diminished. Together, these three things mean moving away from the advanced neoliberal capitalist model and finding other paths to development. "The last challenge to anxiety, a utopia / to everyone’s fear": these are two verses from a poem I wrote many years ago, The Eel of the Rhine, in which I still find myself today.

Marco Bassan

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