Cosimo Picoli
My career began with art, mostly installation. While contemplating how to bridge the gap between art and everyday life, I passed by a different street one day and came across a house with a storefront with a vacant sign. I then opened KADOYA, almost a general store, as an easy-to-entry gallery/atelier that anyone can feel free to take a look at. Domestic and foreign interior, kitchenware, clothing, antiques and handcrafts were lined up, and the progress of two-dimensional and three-dimensional works (made by me, my friends and neighbor’s children) could be seen.
Later, very thankfully, I had the opportunity to go to Europe and work in an art foundry while creating my artwork because of an encounter at KADOYA and big cooperation from that person.
After that, I moved from place to place, and began to live a life of experiencing the land, culture, and daily life, not only through art and design, but also through local work (farming, working in the fields, eating, drinking, and so on).
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KADOYA soon started attracting neighbors, mainly children, and held a summer festival to show my appreciation (food stalls set up with the help of flatmates and friends were popular). In other seasons, soft drinks were provided. Later, I renovated the attic and set up a secret base. Anyone can use it when you want to be alone. Later, I started a guest house using spare rooms. Interactions were also created between travelers, local residents, and restaurants in the town, and KADOYA became a place for travelers to return and residents to gather.
Almost 10 years later, I became a traveler. According to what I hear, a new resident has moved in there and who is now running a wonderful shop that is loved by the locals.
My journey has taken longer than I expected and is still continuing. Just when I thought I had settled down, I moved on, and meeting and parting with people in various places, I began to think about what I could do as a migratory butterfly.
I created this site because I thought it would be possible to write something like a letter to people I met in the past, who I don’t know if I’ll ever see again, and people in the future whose paths might cross temporarily.