(4) Spazio “Genesi onirica. Il risveglio della Terra”

Gianluca Lanfredi

[a few questions]

How did your story begin?
My story in landscape design has precise roots: my years of study in Architecture at the Politecnico di Milano, where I discovered my true vocation. Upon returning to Cremona, I immediately translated theory into practice, beginning to collaborate closely with Cremona-based designer and agricultural expert Giovanni Cristofolini, a graduate of the Fondazione Minoprio.
Over time, I felt the need to continually refine my skills: from in-depth study of plant species to the analysis of soil, climate, and exposure, learning how to balance all of this with clients’ requests while also learning from my own mistakes.
Today, in my approach, I pay meticulous attention to site supervision. I firmly believe that a successful project must harmoniously combine plant biology, architectural design rigor, furnishing choices, and the integration of modern technologies.
Being a landscape architect means accepting that the material you work with is never static. Only by staying up to date can one continue to grow, improve, and create spaces capable of evoking emotion.

Who are the people who have most inspired you artistically and professionally?
On an artistic level, I have certainly been inspired by Tadao Ando, the contemporary Japanese architect renowned for his exposed concrete works, characterised by pure geometries, natural light, and a perfect dialogue with nature, ranging from private residences to museums and places of worship around the world.
On a professional level, I have been inspired by Cremona-based designer and agricultural expert Giovanni Cristofolini, a graduate of the Fondazione Minoprio and my “mentor,” having worked at his landscape design and construction firm in my very first job experience.

How do you imagine your “mental landscape” when you create? Are there any real or imagined places that guide you?
When I close my eyes to imagine a new project, my “mental landscape” is not a chaotic wilderness, but a suspended space where architectural order meets the unpredictability of nature. As an architect, my mind processes space in terms of volumes, perspectives, and functions, yet with the deep awareness that my building material is alive and constantly changing.
If I have to describe the real or imaginary places that guide me, I often think of the rigorous geometries of the Lombard plains and the clean lines of Milanese design that I studied, wrapped however in the atmosphere of my native Cremona, where fog or shifting light blur contours, transforming reality into something dreamlike.
It is this duality between the absolute rationality of built form and the mysterious allure of natural elements—the same theatrical tension I explored in the installation on Dream and Illusion—that forms the backdrop to my visions.

How does nature inspire your projects and lifestyle?
For me, nature has never been a mere decorative backdrop, but rather the raw material with which to sculpt space. This approach is rooted in a key principle of my design philosophy: the garden becomes the “extra room” of a house. It is not an outdoor space that begins where the home ends, but its most fluid, vital, and captivating extension. Unlike interior spaces, however, this room has a fourth dimension: time.
Nature teaches me to design evolution. The seasons change the colours of plant tissues, volumes expand, and blooms mark the passing of months. In my lifestyle, nature is a teacher of patience, resilience, and observation: it has shown me that not everything can be governed by haste or absolute control. Plants have physiological rhythms that must be respected, and unpredictability is part of the process. This awareness permeates my everyday life: it has made me more attentive to detail, able to accept change, and to find beauty in imperfection and continuous transformation. Nature constantly pushes me to seek a balance between the rational rigour of architecture and the instinctive, sometimes rebellious energy of the environment. It is an endless dialogue, a pursuit of harmony that guides both my hand on the drawing board and my way of inhabiting the world, always in search of an authentic connection between human beings and the spaces they inhabit.

Is there a recurring dream – or idea – that keeps returning in your work?
My recurring dream is of a world in which the earth does not hold us down, but where roots rise upward to seek the sky—a mystical place where nature floats freely in the air. I have long been fascinated by the use of epiphytic plants (such as Tillandsia), suspended gardens, oversized kokedama, and dark-toned bodies of water that reflect the vegetation above, endlessly multiplying perspectives and natural views.
In this way, the pleasant illusion is created of walking and moving through emptiness rather than within a closed, confined space; perspectives expand and everything becomes broader and even more immersive. These ideas often float through my mind when I imagine, halfway between dream and reality, designing a garden, a terrace, or a green space increasingly inspired by these sensations.

If your way of designing were a dream, what kind of scenario would it be?
Lucid, epic, silent, or collective?
Lucid. If my way of designing were a dream, it would undoubtedly be lucid. It represents that precise moment when ideas align in the mind spontaneously and instantly. It is the exact instant in which background noise and initial chaos suddenly dissolve, revealing a vision that meets every expectation with disarming clarity.
In this dreamlike scenario, I experience the tangible sensation of intuitions that “come out quickly and spontaneously,” free from any academic rigidity. Everything takes shape through a natural, fluid flow.

What does Avant Gardening mean to you?
In my view, the concept of “Avant gardening” goes beyond the simple care of greenery, transforming into a true immersive scenography, where biology and the most invisible technologies merge into an inseparable embrace. I am referring to a hybrid ecosystem that integrates motion sensors hidden among foliage, induced bioluminescence to illuminate the night, pathways made of piezoelectric materials, and acoustic stones capable of resonating with external vibrations.
In this space, the landscape is no longer a passive backdrop but an active interlocutor that engages intimately with the visitor: flowers open as if by magic, lights pulse in harmony with footsteps, and delicate soundscapes are activated only by human presence, creating the powerful illusion of a fully sentient nature.
But Avant gardening also means designing a resilient ecosystem that appears to live entirely on its own, a self-sufficient microcosm governed by silent artificial intelligences. It is the materialisation of a dream.

At Orticolario 2026.
What emotion or feeling do you hope people experience when they encounter your project?
Approaching the crater’s perimeter, the visitor finds themselves suspended at the edge: hesitating between reverential fear of the unknown and the magnetic attraction of discovery.
Before them, the familiar lawn has ruptured to reveal a brutal yet fascinating anomaly. The eye is drawn to the threatening architecture of leafless Poncirus, whose thorns seem placed to guard large scarlet ovoids, while the imposing alders suggest the primordial force that has split the earth open.
It is a pure sense of contemporary sublimity: the unease of a rebellious nature merges with the desire to touch the intangible.

If your project were music, what would it be?
Laura Palmer’s Theme by Angelo Badalamenti.
A musical masterpiece built on a perfect duality, a constant and unresolved tension between a reassuring surface and a dark abyss—exactly like the crater I propose opening in the lawn of Villa Erba.
Musically, it is the precise translation of the “breath held by the earth” that I express in my project. From this sonic darkness, a piano melody emerges: a poignant, hypnotic crescendo of magnetic beauty that inexorably captures the listener. This corresponds to the exact moment when the visitor leans over the perimeter edge and discovers the interior of the crater.
It is the enchantment of discovery.

Five words that for you are closely linked to the concepts of dream and illusion.
Threshold, mutation, pulsation, unease, revelation.

[BIO]

Gianluca Lanfredi was born in Cremona in 1972.

He graduated in Architecture from the Politecnico di Milano, developing from his student years a strong interest in the relationship between architecture and nature. Throughout his career, he has deepened his expertise in landscape design, working on gardens and parks and overseeing every phase of the projects, from initial concept to execution and construction supervision.

His experience is grounded in a balance between botany, agronomy, design, and architecture, with the aim of creating harmonious spaces that connect the home to the garden, paying close attention to detail and respecting the environment.

“Nature teaches me to design evolution. The seasons change the colours of plant tissues, volumes expand, and blooms mark the passing of months. In my lifestyle, nature is a teacher of patience, resilience, and observation: it has shown me that not everything can be governed by haste or absolute control.”

(4) Spazio “Genesi onirica. Il risveglio della Terra”

Gianluca Lanfredi

[a few questions]

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