by Diana Cuza. Cover image: Giulia Cenci: the hollow men, exhibition views at Palazzo Strozzi, Project Space, Florence, 2025. Photo: Ela Bialkowska, OKNO Studio. Courtesy Fondazione Palazzo Strozzi, Florence.
the hollow men is a new project by Giulia Cenci, and it’s much more than a visual experience. It’s a gradual descent into an uncanny ecosystem composed of metal scraps, wires, bones, plastic, and remnants of decay. The textures are raw and unsettling, with materials that convey a sense of waste and transformation. Her forms—neither fully human nor fully animal—exist in a state of constant mutation.
Inside the Exhibition: Giulia Cenci’s “The Hollow Men” at Palazzo Strozzi
When I first entered the exhibition at Palazzo Strozzi in Florence, the first thing I noticed was not a sculpture but the silence. The space seemed to hold its breath as if the world had slipped into grayscale and time had paused.
The exhibition, which will run until August 31, 2025, takes its title from T. S. Eliot’s 1925 poem, written in the aftermath of World War I. In this poem, Eliot imagines a world filled with broken, hollow figures—trapped between life and death, stripped of purpose, and unable to act: “Shape without form, shade without colour, / Paralysed force, gesture without motion.” The poem is heavy with stillness and spiritual decay, culminating in the poignant line—“This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper”—which resonates with devastating clarity.
Giulia Cenci’s installation at Palazzo Strozzi doesn’t merely illustrate the poem; it embodies its essence. Her work becomes a sculptural evocation of the same haunted atmosphere, where nothing is whole and nothing is truly lifeless. The figures seem to be simultaneously decaying and evolving. Her “hollow men” are not literal representations of Eliot’s characters but sculptural metaphors—fragments of a world where the boundaries between flesh and metal blur. It feels as if these figures are struggling to maintain their identity and structure yet are inevitably slipping through time. The sculptures oscillate between the familiar and the alien: muscles merge with wires, and skulls appear where you least expect them.
A Three-Room Exhibition Exploring Ritual, Emotion, and Artistic Process
The exhibition at Palazzo Strozzi unfolds across three rooms. In the first room, you’re surrounded by sculptures that create a dense, almost ritualistic environment. The figures appear to be a gathering of beings frozen in mid-action, caught in a timeless moment between collapse and survival. There’s a palpable tension in their stillness as if something has just happened—or is about to.
The second room shifts dramatically. It contains a single sculpture, dimly lit, intimate, and quiet. The piece is magnetic, featuring two human faces and an animal one fused into a single structure. The lighting gives it an ethereal quality. There’s something tender about it, yet also a sense of tragedy. After the crowded tension of the first space, this solitary figure feels like a silent witness, bathed in soft light and inviting contemplation rather than confrontation.
In the third and final room, the source of the exhibition’s title becomes visible: Eliot’s poem is displayed beautifully on the wall. In front of it sits a table showcasing Cenci’s own notebooks and sketches, offering a glimpse into her creative process. Observing her thoughts, drawings, and material experiments fosters a quiet sense of intimacy.
What Can We Create From What’s Broken? A Sculptural Meditation on Fragility and Time
Giulia Cenci’s the hollow men isn’t just an artwork to be viewed; it’s an emotional journey to navigate. By blurring the line between sculpture and environment, her work subtly raises the question: What can we create from what’s broken? The sculptures linger in my memory not because they make a statement but because they resist one. They don’t seek to explain themselves; they simply exist—fragile, raw, and fully present in their silence.
