From the Spotlights to Luz, the Seed of Spirituality and Rebirth. Interview with artist Ludovico Tersigni
From X Factor to TV series, and even sculptural art, the Roman artist draws on yoga to sculpt and rebalance both body and soul
Ludovico Tersigni returns to the public in a renewed, almost transfigured form. For many, he’s still the magnetic face of Skam Italia, the fragile and radiant protagonist of Summertime, or the actor who made his mark in Slam – Tutto per una ragazza and Arance e Martello. Others remember his spontaneity as a host on the Italian stage of X Factor. But behind the lights of the sets, in recent years, another life has taken hold: quieter, slower, more essential.
The transformation wasn’t just artistic, but profoundly internal. Born in Nettuno, near Rome, Tersigni embarked on a spiritual journey of listening, meditation, and discipline. Yoga became a daily destination, a return to body and breath. It’s from there – from that suspended time that flows between an asana and a fading thought – that his new creative identity seems to have emerged. A quest that has nothing to do with image, but with essence.
Perhaps this is why, speaking with him, ideas resonate with those who are walking a path of awareness. Like the reflection in the Fight Club movie: “The things you own, ultimately own you”. A warning that seems to echo in his sculptures, in his drawings, in the need to free oneself from what is unnecessary to return to the original matter of things.
Or like the words of the Italian journalist and writer Tiziano Terzani, who reminded us that: “Deep in everyone’s heart, what is right and what is wrong is already written, not by imposition, but by intuition”. A phrase that seems to describe the way Tersigni, also an author of books, approaches art: not to follow a rule, but to pursue his own, internal, almost ancestral truth.
This new phase of his life takes shape in two exhibition projects: Luz – Viaggio Verso la Redenzione, a solo exhibition at the Miart Gallery in Milan, and a selection of works presented in Rome in the group exhibition L’Arte dell’Avvento, at the Emmeotto Arte Gallery.
Luz is the pulsating center of this journey. Luz is not just a title, but a symbol of something more; its history is rooted in the most ancient spiritual traditions – from Jewish to Muslim, to the practice of yoga and the awakening of the Kundalini. It is a recurring form, an archetype. It is a seed, a nucleus, a vital organ.
Sometimes it is a compact mass, other times a fragment that seems on the verge of opening. Luz recounts an inner journey made of falls, restarts, and fractures that become glimpses. It is the vivid image of rebirth, the material that contains the possibility of clarity.
And the works – sculptures, textured canvases, impulsive and thoughtful drawings – all seem to arise from the same profound point: a place where spirituality, memory, the body, and discipline intertwine.
It is in this suspended space between public past and intimate present that the following conversation takes place. A sincere, vulnerable dialogue, in which Ludovico Tersigni recounts not only his artistic journey, but above all his human transformation: the need to listen to himself, the need for subtraction, his relationship with his family, the search for Light, his Luz.
How did you approach art, and sculpture in particular?
I was fortunate to have an eclectic and self-taught father. He was a doctor, but also a musician, guitarist, and singer; at the end of his life, he began playing the piano. He was curious and deeply artistic. My uncle was also a great artist, painting in oils, as was my father, who, over time, increasingly developed his own style.
I grew up surrounded by colors, brushes, and the smell of turpentine: for a child, it was a world of magical toys. All of this entered into me. When my father passed away, I believe a search began: a way to rediscover that complicity and that kind of perspective we shared.
I think the artistic process is linked to the search for a Daimon, a sort of invisible companion, like a thought that continues even when we are still.
Is creativity a family legacy?
Yes. My grandfather was an antique restorer and cabinetmaker, and so was his father. In our family, we’ve always worked with our hands. You can start painting even at 50, sure, but if you see it as a child, it’s different. It’s like saying: I’m using what you taught me, but to tell my own things.
My father introduced me to drawing and the technique of chiaroscuro. Then a friend of mine asked me to accompany him to a sculpture class. I remembered that my father’s last work had been a little horse, and so I thought I’d use that “seed” he’d left me.
My second work was, in fact, a horse’s head, which my teacher, Alberto Emiliano Durante, then advised me to cast in bronze. Bronze changed my perspective on many things.
And it was precisely during a phase of personal research that you came to sculpture. How did this transition occur?
Mysteriously and naturally at the same time. At a certain point, I felt the need for a language that was more physical, more concrete, something I could literally touch with my hands. Clay, plaster, iron... it’s as if they called to me. I began as a self-taught artist, observing, making mistakes, and getting dirty.
And I realized that, here too, the body is the protagonist. In acting, you seek emotions; in sculpture, you seek forms. But in both cases, you seek yourself.
How does one of your works originate? An idea, an urgent need, a mistake?
Not from error, at least not yet. It stems from a profound urgency. A counterintuitive choice in my life was turning down the second season of X Factor to follow my desire for travel and freedom. I’ve been to Argentina, Costa Rica, the United States, Morocco, the Canary Islands, and India. To India, I brought fundamental texts with me: the Bhagavadgītā, Mircea Eliade’s yoga.
There, I encountered the concept of Luz, my main research. It’s an ancient, almost forgotten idea, linked to mystical flight: rising above matter through imagination and art.
What does this “mystical leap” linked to Luz mean to you?
It’s like reaching a threshold: a critical mass of information and emotions that, at a certain point, overflows. It can’t be explained in words alone, and the sculpture becomes a synthesis of all this.
Do you remember your first work related to Luz?
Yes, the Luz of Babylon. I realized it at night. But the whole journey began mainly during my time in India and the spiritual readings of that trip.
What is your liberating gesture when you work?
It’s a generative force that electrifies you. Entering a flow where what needs to happen happens. It doesn’t always happen: often it just takes concentration, proportion, and technique. But when that thing comes along, you drop everything.
It’s like a writer struck by an idea: if he doesn’t have pen and paper, he repeats it a thousand times until he learns it. Then you reach exhaustion, contemplate the work, and feel it’s finished.
Are yoga and Buddhism part of your path?
Yes, I approached it because I felt a calling. I don’t consider myself a Buddhist, but certain rituals and practices have opened up a whole new world. Training the body to train the spirit, creating a connection. It’s a journey.
How does your communication between television audiences and art audiences change?
At X Factor, communication is almost a service: helping the kids get on stage, setting the pace for the show, following a set list. In art, it’s different: there, you try to communicate an inner world, a vision.
What does sculpture give you that no other art form gives you?
It gives me a sense of absolute presence. When I sculpt, I can’t hide: either I’m there, or I’m not. There are no tricks, no “good light,” no editing that saves a scene. There’s only the material and the way you choose to approach it. And then it gives me a very strong grounding.
Clay resists you, forces you to confront what’s inside you. It’s a gentle struggle, a continuous negotiation. And in that resistance, I find a truth that is more difficult to reach in other languages.
What is your relationship with acting today?
Acting is my original home. It’s the language that allowed me to discover parts of myself I didn’t know existed. But it’s also a job that requires patience: you have to wait for the right projects, you can’t decide everything, and you depend on so many variables.
Today, I approach it with more maturity. I no longer have the anxiety of “always being there.” I want to be there when it’s needed, when a role truly calls to me. I prefer one film that changes me to ten experiences that leave me indifferent.
And this personal maturity led you, as you said, to learn to say “no”. Was it difficult?
Yes, because we grew up with the idea that saying “no” means losing something. In reality, it means saving yourself. When I realized I was piling on too many commitments just out of fear of giving up, I stopped. I started asking myself: “Does this project nourish me? Does it make me grow? Does it respect me as an artist and as a human being?” and so I made more conscious choices.
I’m not interested in being in a thousand places; I’m interested in being in the right place. And this is the greatest freedom I’ve discovered.
Which series of works are you most proud of?
I’m proud of Luz’s series. It’s the one that resonates with me the most and was born from a profound spiritual and personal synthesis. The feedback I received, as in Rome, at Palazzo Ripetta, helped me understand the direction I was taking.
Is there a historical, mythological, or cultural reference that you feel close to?
Yes, classical mythology, Indian tradition, the dimension of symbolic flight, such as Icarus or Ishvara in yoga. My work has a classical foundation because I come from that background, but Luz is already an attempt to bring it into the contemporary.
What do you see in your artistic future? Will you continue with Luz?
I don’t know what stage of the journey I’m at. As with pranayama, if you don’t exhale completely, you can’t truly inhale. But I know that Luz will return to my life. For now, I’m living this phase to the fullest: with affection, without premature nostalgia.
In the future, I may develop new series and cycles, depending on what life and spirituality bring me... and I’d also love to exhibit in Japan.
Interview by Fabio Pariante: X • Instagram • Website
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Ludovico Tersigni: Instagram • Instagram 2