Interview with Stefania De Angelis

COMEL AWARD VANNA MIGLIORIN 2024

Interview with Stefania De Angelis

by Ilaria Ferri

She attended the Medal School at the State Mint in the 1980s and graduated in decoration from the Academy of Fine Arts in Rome. She learned the technique of stained glass and mosaic and grisaille painting at prestigious institutions such as Domus Dei in Rome, Vetreria Grassi in Milan, and Vetreria Fontana in Florence. She owns the art studio Studiolartetutta, specializing in the design and creation of artistic stained glass, decoration, painting, sacred art, furniture, set design, and arts and crafts courses. She has participated in solo and group exhibitions mainly in Rome.

You participated in the 11th edition of the COMEL award with the artwork Caduta Libera, a composition that combines glass and aluminium. While glass is a material you have always worked with, how was your experience with aluminium? What challenges or discoveries did you encounter while working with this material?

In reality, my encounter with aluminium, as well as with other metals like iron, brass, copper, lead, and even tin used for stained glass, was a natural consequence of being born into a family of metal artisans. My father owned a metal construction and window frame company, where most of my relatives worked. I, too, grew up surrounded by workshops and warehouses filled with the smell of metal and welding, where the dominant sound was that of machines bending, cutting, curving, and polishing.

So, no fear at all! If the technical aspect was under control, the only challenge was using materials and techniques—both traditional and new, like laser cutting—to elevate craftsmanship, or rather “transfigure” it into art. But first, there is always the sacred silence of inspiration. This is how some of my works came to life, such as Il Maestro, featuring a laser-cut iron structure and leaded glass, which is now housed in the Fijlkam Combat Sports Museum, and Il Principe Notturno, displayed at the Casina delle Civette in Villa Torlonia.

With Sirena, a piece made entirely of aluminium, cut from a single strip and shaped by hand, I wanted to challenge the rigidity of aluminium to make it appear “sinuous.” Now, that was a real challenge!

In Caduta Libera, water—represented by glass—serves as a metaphor for human emotions, and in your composition, this water bursts into the world, symbolized by aluminium. How do these two materials interact in your work, and what symbolism do you attribute to this combination?

Yes, emotions, like water, hold immense power—especially when restrained. The external world resists and restrains, but water is stronger. It flows relentlessly and carves its path. Water is so soft, gentle, and adaptive! Just like emotions when they become overwhelming enough to break through barriers. It is also like the force of life itself, which ultimately creates a bridge element that connects matter and spirit.

In Caduta Libera, after the struggle to emerge, to be born, all the elements—aluminium, glass, lead, and tin—merge together to give life to a new creation.

Il principe notturno

How did your journey into the world of art begin? Was there a key moment when you realized this was your path? Which artists or experiences have influenced your work the most?

I could say there was never a key moment; it has simply always been this way. Since childhood, I have spent much of my solitary time drawing and painting, and I never stopped “practicing”—whether through restoration, decoration, painting, graphic design, or stained glass, which has been my main occupation for many years and still is today.
Throughout this journey, I have met, studied, and sometimes collaborated with artists who have shaped my way of seeing, feeling, and working in both the artistic and artisanal fields.
First and foremost, my professors at the Academy of Fine Arts in Rome, such as Antonio Scordìa, who first assigned me the task of designing a stained-glass window before I even knew what one was; Guido Strazza, who made me appreciate the importance of technical precision; and Augusto Ranocchi, with whom I later created numerous stained-glass windows. Above all, the art critic Maurizio Fagiolo Dell’Arco taught me how to read and interpret art.
I also learned from highly skilled artists and craftsmen in artistic glasswork at institutions like Domus Dei in Rome, Vetreria Fontana in Florence, and Vetreria Grassi in Milan.
And then, my poetic inspirations: Gastone Novelli and Fausto Melotti.

Throughout your career, you have explored different techniques and materials, blending craftsmanship with artistic reflection. In your opinion, where is the boundary between art and craftsmanship? What distinguishes a craftsman from an artist?

For me, the distinction between art and craftsmanship has always been clear since I have pursued both simultaneously. Being a craftsman means mastering a trade and creating technically and aesthetically high-quality objects—almost perfect in every way—often based on others’ designs or for restoring missing or damaged parts.
Being an artist, on the other hand, means creating something new and original, born from imagination or the necessity of the creative moment. Of course, there is a boundary between the two—sometimes undefined—where one can easily cross over, either consciously or unconsciously. This is where artistic craftsmanship lies.

Il Maestro, at Fijlkam Museum

You have created and restored stained-glass windows for important churches and basilicas. What drew you to sacred art? Was it a conscious choice or a path that developed over time? What are the main differences between working on sacred art and secular contemporary art projects?

Creating stained-glass windows almost naturally leads to commissions from religious institutions, and I welcomed that opportunity with great enthusiasm!

The major restoration and stained-glass projects for the Basilica of St. Paul, the Church of San Giuseppe dei Falegnami, Santa Prassede, Preziosissimo Sangue, Corpo e Sangue di Cristo, Iglesia Nacional Española, the Monastery of Madonna del Tuono in Samos, and many others have shaped me, given me experience, and provided great satisfaction.

In the more private realm of sacred art—funerary art—I found an even greater space for creative expression, more so than in stained-glass windows commissioned for interior design.

In both cases, the degree of creative freedom varies. Sometimes working for a church means strictly restoring existing works, which, while prestigious and formative, is, as I mentioned earlier, a craft. But in other cases, such as the private chapel project I am currently working on, there is significant freedom to create a true “painting” that tells a real story.

You have worked on commissioned projects for religious institutions as well as public and private entities. How do you balance your artistic vision with the client’s requests? In these cases, do you prefer to respect tradition or find room for innovation?

As I mentioned earlier, there can be room for creative freedom and innovation in both sacred and secular commissions.
Often, private clients—or their architects—already have a clear vision of the design, style, and colors, leaving me to simply execute the work. Other times, they come with a concept and ask me to interpret it, which is what I enjoy most about my job!
Of course, only in artworks that are completely independent of commissions does the artist have absolute freedom.