Sitting on a small, round table in the guest bedroom of Andrea Zanatelli and Kenny Spooren’s Milan home is a curious object – about 30 centimetres high and cylindrically shaped with a dull brown patina. When its hinged doors are open, they reveal something spectacular: a Victorian altar, painted a faded robin’s-egg blue with gilded borders and a carving of a sunburst. ‘You put a statue in there and two candles and you can say your little prayer,’ says Zanatelli, who picked it up at an Italian flea market. In many ways, the altar bears a distinct resemblance to the couple’s home. Seen from the exterior, the two-bedroom apartment, located in a grey block of flats built en masse during the city’s postwar restoration, is undeniably dreary. But inside, similar to the gold flourishes concealed within the doors, lives a shrine to diverse beauty.
Indeed, a complaint one often hears about Milan is that it operates behind closed doors. Usually, the sentiment refers to the culture of exclusivity, but it also rings true in the literal sense: the city is home to a disproportionate population of collectors and aesthetes, who pour their passions and accumulated treasures into their private domains. Zanatelli, best known for his hauntingly romantic digital collages and for designing album art for Florence and the Machine, and Spooren, a communications manager, are chief among them.
Crossing the home’s threshold from the strip-lit apartment hallway, visitors are plunged into antiquity. Immediately next to the door sits a console decorated with Grecian friezes, bought in Turin. On top is a plaster bust by a Belgian sculptor, as well as an antique Chinese ceramic candle- holder and a pair of wooden candlesticks from an Italian Baroque church. In the living room, an assemblage of mid-century furniture designed by Martin Visser for Spectrum – draped in assorted fabrics and kilim cushions – sits next to a faux-marble cabinet, where the anachronistic TV is hidden behind the glass. Atop a brass bird-legged ‘Traccia’ table by Meret Oppenheim, the couple keep an assemblage of shells and architectural miniatures, arranged to evoke the feeling of a Renaissance grotto. In the corner stands a gilded palm tree by Maison Jansen. ‘It’s one of our favourite pieces,’ says Spooren. ‘It renders the space a bit less serious.’
Zanatelli and Spooren dedicate most of their weekends to trawling northern Italian markets and antique fairs, an activity they partake in with systematic precision. Lately, they’ve been on the hunt for opaline glass, a technique popular in 19th-century France in which the addition of phosphate results in a milky or opaque hue. ‘It’s everywhere in the house now, but it all started when he gifted me a little duck for my birthday filled with heart-shaped glass charms,’ Zanatelli recounts. ‘The charms were from a heart surgeon who had passed away, so his collection was being dispersed,’ Spooren chimes in. ‘The seller had no idea about prices, so I bought the entire lot. That’s how it all began.’
Fabrics, too, form the bedrock of Zanatelli and Spooren’s collection. Indonesian ikats, Uzbek suzanis and Ottoman and Chinese silks are framed or draped on the walls and furniture. Victorian needlework covers pillows and a collection of footstools once used by nuns in convent workshops. In the entranceway hangs a golden tranche of silk discovered in an antique shop in Milan’s Brera neighbourhood. ‘It’s a Chinese export fabric made for the European market,’ explains Spooren. To which Zanatelli adds: ‘The silk is crumbling and ripped, which is perfect for us. Bruises, scratches and damage are not a problem. When an object is 200 years old you want to see a sign of its life.’
This passion for textiles has even bled into Zanatelli’s practice. This month he launched a collection of wallpapers and a trio of velvet pillows printed with his artwork for the London-based textile brand House of Hackney. ‘We paired my art with House of Hackney’s prints,’ he says of the collaboration. ‘We were inspired by 16th-century art, alchemy and the work of William Morris.’
Like any collectors, Zanatelli and Spooren admit their passion is an ever-evolving pursuit – and even the most dedicated aesthete can’t have it all: ‘Yesterday I saw a beautiful set of candlesticks, but I had to leave them behind,’ laments Spooren. ‘There just wasn’t anywhere left to put them.’
An abridged version of this story appears in ‘Italian Interiors: Rooms with a View’, published by Phaidon, rrp £49.95. For more about Andrea Zanatelli’s work, visit andreazanatelli.com
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