OFF STAGE

In the silent hours of a concert arena on Milan’s outskirts, young people arrive each day. Some stop briefly, others remain. Nothing happens, yet something begins to take shape. This is why I keep returning.

In the quiet hours of a concert arena on the post-industrial outskirts of Milan, young people arrive each day. They sit, lie down, lean against the structures. Some stop briefly, others remain. The place is widely known across the city for what happens at night. Anyone who grew up nearby, like me, knows it well.

During the day, however, the space changes. The stage structure remains, but the audience disappears. The arena empties out and becomes a large urban space shaped by silence. In these hours, young people appear. Here, being present does not mean being seen. This is why I keep returning. I was born in a city where the industrial landscape never truly disappeared, continuing to shape ways of living even after the factories closed.

When the lights are off, the arena appears as a kind of no man’s land free from the logic of performance, consumption and expected forms of sociality, where provisional forms of presence take place. This ongoing work, begun in 2024, observes what emerges in this temporarty truce, before the show begins again.

NOTES ON THE PLACE

The Carroponte in Sesto San Giovanni is a former industrial structure of the Falck Steelworks, originally built as a large metal gantry for moving heavy materials. A historical landmark of the workers’ movement in a city once nicknamed the “Little Manchester of Italy,” it was decommissioned at the end of the twentieth century and transformed into a cultural and music venue in 2008. Today, Carroponte is one of the main open-air arenas in the Milan area: during the summer season it hosts concerts and festivals with a capacity of up to 12,000 people.