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Modesty is not among the architectural virtues of the Palazzo Pisani Moretta. The Gothic patrician palace on the Grand Canal was adorned in the 18th century with all the determination of the Rococo style: magnificent chandeliers (still lit with real candles today), inlaid marble floors, theatrical ceiling frescoes by Jacopo Guarana and Giovanni Battista Tiepolo – exactly what Dries Van Noten and his partner hadn’t actually been looking for when they were searching for a home for their foundation. But some buildings leave you no choice. “It would have been a sacrilege not to buy it,” says Van Noten.

For all its splendor, the rooms possess something surprisingly delicate, almost human. Unlike many Venetian palaces, the palazzo has not been overlaid by one era after another over the centuries. Rather, its decisive transformation can be dated quite precisely to the 1730s. Thus, a temple of savoir-faire was created that, despite everything, appears balanced, almost light – and actually leaves room for the exhibits. Most of the time, anyway. For at times, the palazzo certainly has its own ideas about who gets to shine here.

Built in the late 15th century, the Palazzo Pisani Moretta is located in the Sestiere San Polo overlooking the Grand Canal and was owned for nearly four decades by a branch of the patrician Pisani family

The rooms, too, showcase highlights of craftsmanship, including the ornately patterned terrazzo floors

After stepping back from the fashion world, Van Noten felt it was time to give something back – to craftsmanship, or more precisely: to the art of making, of creating, of the human gesture. For nearly four decades, he had exemplified this himself, never merely designing clothing, but rather physically habitable worlds that sometimes moved visitors to his fashion shows to tears. Simple cotton shirts met sequins and jacquard, Indian embroidery met hand-painted silk fabrics from Como, romanticism met avant-garde, austerity met exuberance. Everything was opulent, but never ostentatious.

Even today, Van Noten designs the brand’s boutiques himself. Each one is a small cabinet of curiosities: here, a van Dyck above a colonial-style sofa; there, Cocteau next to a red-lacquered bridge table. The Fondazione, he says, is therefore not a break from his previous work, but rather its logical continuation. Only the context has changed. It’s still about curiosity, respect for craftsmanship, and the conviction that the whole is more interesting than the sum of its parts. “But everything has less urgency. In return, there’s more space for things to unfold at their own pace – so they can continue to grow, interact with one another, and surprise us.” Van Noten named the first presentation at the Palazzo Pisani Moretta “The Only True Protest Is Beauty,” after a line by the American songwriter and activist Phil Ochs, a contemporary of Bob Dylan. “It struck a chord with me right away,” says Van Noten. “Not because it contained a completely new idea, but because it expressed something I had essentially always felt. I just hadn’t had the words for it.”

A dialogue across the centuries: Steven Shearer’s 2024 photograph “Whiskered Sentinel” (courtesy of the artist and the galleries Eva Presenhuber and David Zwirner) meets the 18th-century portrait of Pietro Vettor Pisani by an unknown artist. In the foreground stands a grand piano by Julius Blüthner (“Grand Piano 36437,” 1893).

Van Noten stages the exhibition as an associative journey without a clear narrative, in which harmony and dissonance, splendor and transience, delicacy and unease constantly give way to one another. Large-format photographs by Steven Shearer set the stage for dresses by Christian Lacroix and Rei Kawakubo for Comme des Garçons, which at first glance could hardly be further apart: on the one hand, the historic exuberance of haute couture – brocade, volume, grand theatricality; on the other, designs that defy the very notion of having to be dresses at all. In between stands a design by Palestinian designer Ayham Hassan, serving as a reminder that one is not only allowed to grieve but must also be able to dream.

But fashion here is only part of a much larger narrative. Van Noten has brought together more than 200 works by over 50 creators from a wide variety of disciplines at the Palazzo – though he has only a limited interest in categorization. What matters is whether one can sense the dedication and recognize the calling or talent from which a piece was created. “The idea that an object that is used or worn should have less intellectual or emotional weight than one that is merely viewed has always been foreign to me,” says Van Noten. “The knowledge and sensitivity of the artisans I’ve worked with were no less profound than those of the artists I admire.”

With his sculptures composed of cardboard, discarded building materials, and other found objects, Belgian sculptor Peter Buggenhout contrasts the opulent splendor of the palazzo with a deliberately raw materiality. “The Blind Leading the Blind #48” (2012) opens the exhibition as a monumental figure covered in house dust. Courtesy of the artist and the Axel Vervoordt Gallery.

With his sculptures composed of cardboard, discarded building materials, and other found objects, Belgian sculptor Peter Buggenhout contrasts the opulent splendor of the palazzo with a deliberately raw materiality. “The Blind Leading the Blind #48” (2012) opens the exhibition as a monumental figure covered in house dust. Courtesy of the artist and the Axel Vervoordt Gallery.

Van Noten has always been known for deliberately not working with things he liked at first glance. He chose colours that he didn’t initially find attractive, and pieces of furniture that he only came to love once he placed them in a different context. “I’ve always been more interested in things that initially irritate or unsettle me. A beauty that reveals everything to you straight away is quickly forgotten. The things you have to unpick and gradually come to understand usually stay with you longer.” These are things that compel you to take a second look. “Things that shift your perception slightly, without explaining exactly what has actually changed.”

The Murano glass objects by Japanese artist Ritsue Mishima reflect light, color, and space, entering into a dialogue with the Palazzo’s historic architecture and paintings

The themed room “Chaos and Order” brings together family history, sacred painting, and contemporary design: In the foreground is Misha Kahn’s desk “An Uncertain Task” (2018); in the center, a haute couture ensemble by Christian Lacroix (Fall/Winter 2001); and in the background, the portrait of Francesco Pisani and Paolo Fiammingo’s “Jacob’s Dream.”

Van Noten curated the exhibition together with the Belgian Geert Bruloot. As soon as about half of a room was set up, they began to treat it like a collage: adding, removing, moving, and condensing. “I always try to sense whether the things speak to one another,” says Van Noten. “Whether a rhythm emerges that carries people through an experience. When a combination works, the works cease to be separate entities. Each one changes the way we view the next.” Essentially, he had already structured his collections in this way. With just one crucial difference: “In fashion, everything moves toward a conclusion, toward the moment when the narrative reaches its destination. Here, it remains open-ended.”

Visitors are encouraged to draw their own conclusions, at their own pace – and possibly ones quite different from those Van Noten himself had in mind. This first presentation is just a warm-up, he says. The foundation has yet to find its voice. In the future, therefore, there will not only be presentations here, but also discussions and residencies. And since, for Van Noten, craftsmanship isn’t tied to any specific trade anyway: Why not invite female chefs? Or poets? Or young winemakers? Van Noten knows he won’t be able to save craftsmanship on his own. But no one can accuse him of not at least having tried.

“The knowledge contained in a piece of glass is no less than that found in a painting. The idea expressed in a garment is no less valuable than the idea embodied in a sculpture. An artificial hierarchy, here as in most cases, says more about the values of the people who established it than about the works themselves.” Dries Van Noten.

“The knowledge contained in a piece of glass is no less than that found in a painting. The idea expressed in a garment is no less valuable than the idea embodied in a sculpture. An artificial hierarchy, here as in most cases, says more about the values of the people who established it than about the works themselves.” Dries Van Noten

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