Meet Claudiano.jpeg's Tortellini People
In Bologna, Claudio Chiavacci's tortellini art brings joy to passersby—and himself.
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To spend a long weekend in Bologna is to go on a multi-day tortellini bender. You can eat tortellini in its most traditional Bolognese form, where the mortadella- and prosciutto-filled dumplings swim in a rich, clear brodo. You can eat them out of paper cups, smothered in melted butter or bolognese, at fast-casual cafeterias, or snack on deep-fried tortellini like it’s popcorn.
You can find jumbo tortellini-shaped breads stuffed with mortadella, and when you’ve stuffed yourself, you can go to your nearest trinket shop and stock up on tortellini key chains, tote bags, and mugs.
I know this because I did all of the above in September of 2022, which is when I came across another tortellini delight: A photo of a pair of tango dancers, wheat-pasted onto a wall on the street, with tortellini in lieu of heads. Instagram sleuthing revealed the work of Claudiano.jpeg, a Bologna-based photographer and illustrator originally from Tuscany, who has been dotting Bologna’s streets with tortellini collages since June of 2021, when he decided to experiment with presenting his own photographs and collages in street-art form. (His first, a collage of a piano player, is below.)
“I started to make something funny with Bologna, for Bologna,” he says. “I make these funny things because I'm happy if people who walk on the street smile if they see my artworks.” They also function as a form of art therapy. “When I am super depressed, I make tortellini on the wall,” he says. “There are good thoughts tied to these moments, to the image of tortellini,” he says. “The nana prepares tortellini for all the family on Sunday. It is something that celebrates union between parents, nephews, all the people of the family.”
Claudio (pictured, above) attended university in Bologna, and when his family would visit, they’d gather together to eat tortellini, too. “Plus, the tortellini are very nice because they are expressive,” he says, “and if you put eyes and a mouth [on them], they’re super funny.”
Tortellini require a honed craftsmanship to make well, but they’re an ephemeral art, gobbled down in seconds. Claudio’s pieces aren’t that different—once they’ve been affixed to the street, they last for about two to three weeks until they disappear. Claudio is a photographer, so they live on in his own images (and on his popular Instagram). Ahead, he shares the stories behind some of his favorite pasta pieces.