Daniel Giordano's sickly sequela, The Simonetti Effect - A conversation between the artist and Clare Gemima

Daniel Giordano’s The Simonetti Effect. March 3 - April 7, 2025. Photo courtesy of Argenis Apolinario

By CLARE GEMIMA March 25, 2025

Daniel, thank you for hosting me at a walkthrough of The Simonetti Effect recently, which is currently showing at The Azarian McCullough Art Gallery at St. Thomas Aquinas College, a gallery in Orangeburg, New York.

Your exhibition finds beauty in the repulsive, fascination in the ugly, and remedy in the abject...Im interested in how you critically engage with these curiosities on a deeper level, as they seemingly transcend the mere borders of your artworks.

Clare Gemima: How did these types of dualities arise for you personally, and force you to investigate them — was it through a myriad of intrusive thoughts as a child, by way of strange encounters in adulthood, or was it through the prose of the books you have read?

Daniel Giordano: I have always been naturally drawn to the raunchy, grotesque, and teratological (both mythologically and biologically). Growing up, sci-fi/fantasy films and off-color cartoons (Ren & Stimpy), in addition to my beloved otherworldly pewter casted figurines, Todd McFarlane action figures, Gundam Wing Model Kits, and gory video games informed my aesthetic sensibilities. This fascination paired with my sheltered, overprotected upbringing fueled my creative expression. 

The tortured aspects of Francis Bacon's paintings, the magical curiosities of Wu Bin scrolls, the potty humor of James Ensor's drawings, the supernatural essence of Manuel Álvarez Bravo's photographs, and the unsettling mysteriousness of Steven Gammell's illustrations also made indelible impressions on me. I was always attracted to the things that incite intense emotions.

Some of my favorite stories include Baldo by Teofilo Felango, Gargantua and Pantagruel by François Rabelais, Story of the Eye by George Batille, The Painted Bird by Jerzy Kosiński, Death in Spring by Mercè Rodoreda, Beauty is a Wound by Eka Kurniawan,  Juliette by The Marquis de Sade, and Donner Party by Richard Brautigan. I found many aspects of these works to be hysterical yet repulsive, but at the same time relatable and familiar.

These dualities embody my distinctly Italian-American upbringing and my hometown of Newburgh, NY – the true underbelly of America. I aim to infuse a full spectrum of my emotions into each artwork during the course of production, imbuing them with a portion of my soul. Making art is an escape to pure freedom. To express ourselves in the most authentic way, as well as becoming unconcerned by external opinions, are ultimate achievements.

Clare Gemima: While in the space, you and I stood in front of Study for Chronos XIII, a large painted drawing made with glitter, graphite, acrylic paint, rubber, and sentimental letters, poetry, and collaged drawings made by other artists.

I asked whether you viewed your depictions of phalluses, genitalia, or skulls as figurative. Perhaps they function more as symbols or indexes of the most concealed, ‘shameful’, or even invisible aspects of the human form. Could you elaborate on your response, which touched on Roman history and sexually perverse domination?

Daniel Giordano: Study for Chronos XIII (Jupiter Optimus Maximus) could be interpreted as a depiction of the current state of the world. A giant clock-face with skulls placed at each  hour evokes the impending doom our industrially polluted, micro-plastic filled dust bowl of a planet faces through relentless ecocidal wrecking. Meanwhile, there are large airborne Fascinus that represent the ‘cock-tocracy’, as the great Lydia Lunch describes them, or The Powers That Be. 

Fascinus were magical entities in ancient Rome that were thought to ward off bad luck. They were graffitied all over ancient Roman streets, even stamped into coin currency, amongst other things. Contemporary versions are less erotic Italian forms of long hot peppers or red bull's horns and are occasionally donned with the head and hunched torso of the Pulcinella. Each day in Ancient Rome was a power struggle of what would today be considered sexually perverse domination. I highly recommend listening to Daniele Bolelli’s podcast History on Fire, Episode 66: Sex in Ancient Rome. Absorbing this information changed my attitude towards phallic representations.

My hometown of Newburgh is a microcosmic reflection of our society at large, corruption of power (the kleptocracy), and our forsaken species. This translates into my works on paper, which are often chaotic scenes with fire, skulls, and flies. Destruction (1886), the fourth painting in Thomas Cole’s Course of Empire series (1883-6) holds particular significance for me, and embodies the types of messages I too hope to convey. My goal is to accentuate the often-deemed irreverent baroque features in my works, and contemporize them with limitless, intensifying doses of ecstasy.

Painter Luis Emilio Romero with Study For Chronos XIII (Jupiter Optimus Maximus), 2024–2025. Photo courtesy of Argenis Apolinario

Clare Gemima: What was your reasoning behind honoring Claudio Simonetti, best known as the keyboardist of the Italian band Goblin, whose melodic shrillness reinvented the sounds of terror and horror in the title of your exhibition? I also wonder how My Fledging II with Kumquats, your sound piece, which you’ve reflected records the 'spirit of a place,' relates to some of your non-audible works in the show, like Study For Chronos XIII (Jupiter Optimus Maximus) or Pleasure Pipe LXXIV?

Daniel Giordano: The Simonetti Effect is the eerie feeling one gets from hearing Claudio Simonetti's film scores like the 1977 cult classic Suspiria by Dario Argento. I noticed a recurring Italian theme, and felt this title would pair very well with the name of the venue: an art gallery in Costello Tower at St. Thomas Aquinas College. It suited the architecture and overall essence of the place, which are factors I always consider when choosing exhibition titles.

My Fledgling II with Kumquats, 2025, is a ‘sound collage,’ made in a way similar to how I construct sculptures. I collect sound bytes from places I go, quotes from films, and other sounds that pique my interest. These snippets are then compiled to create My Fledgling sound works. This one, edited by Andre Szabo, features a consistent symphony of spring and summer frogs croaking, squealing, and calling to mate. With additionally overlayed quotes, complimenting the installation by mirroring the chaos depicted in Study For Chronos XIII (Jupiter Optimus Maximus), these sound works create multi-sensory activations within the space.

Clare Gemima: Amidst your own comments strewn throughout your exhibition’s accompanying pamphlet, you claim “my vein of pleasure pipes revels in the legacy of my grandfather, Frank Giordano, who enjoyed smoking tobacco out of a wooden pipe.” You also told me your brother served as an inspirational muse, and may still to this day. Outside of the confines of your Italian ancestry, how do you address lineage through your work? 

Daniel Giordano: My family members deeply inform my work; the way they move through the world, their idiosyncratic expressions, explosive personalities, and how they present themselves. Dysfunction has been a consistent throughline that has inspired me. I highly value authenticity in relationships, and family dynamics are not always pretty or easy. In my work, I strive to embody the full spectrum of emotions- the good, the bad, and everything in between. The Giordano lineage, from my grandfather Frank who started a coat factory named after my dearest Aunt Vicki who is an entrepreneur, to my beauty pageant queen/Playboy Bunny mother Roseanne are beloved characters that have shaped my worldview, and continue to provide the fuel that informs my work. 

Clare Gemima enthralled yet disgusted by My Bare-Naked series. [L-R] Franciscan Monk, 2021. Cucurbitarius, 2022-25. Fugitive, 2014-19. Eeyore, 2022. Photo courtesy of Argenis Apolinario 

Clare Gemima: How is it that you are obsessed with your own penis? To lend some weight to my query, your piece My Bare-Naked Fugitive, although not listed in your materials list, has been pigmented with your own urine. Was this choice an ode to your own predilections of bodies, fluids, or bodily-fluid, or was it merely to add shock value during your walk-through? 

Daniel Giordano: For years I have been told that my work resembles dicks, so I decided to lean into it, and channel ‘fuck-you energy’ into artistic results and reclaim the notion of dicks within my oeuvre. It brings me joy to make these extremely absurd, naughty, silly, and apocalyptic works on paper in the same way I find amusement in looking at images of Edo period Ukiyo-e renditions of gore, the supernatural, and the sexually explicit. Drawings by Carol Rama where she depicts men with multiple cocks attached to their single pelvises, or James Ensor’s portrayal of the Powers That Be defecating onto the bustling city streets below—where pedestrians gaze upward, mouths agape while swallowing falling feces—all fill me with immense satisfaction. 

I consider my urine the cologne of the art world. 

I used it to oxidise the copper mesh I had mounted on a makeshift wooden stretcher when creating the first of My Bare-Nakeds. It was an economical solution, as the mesh originally came from the press machines my family would use when they manufactured coats in the building I now occupy as my studio. 

Clare Gemima: Your works utilize a wildly vast, and free range of materials; your own pubic hair, polymer, shuttlecock feathers, beaver claws, copper mesh, dior lipstick, tiger balm...the list goes on. How do you source these matters and tchotchkes, and what material are you longing to work with that you haven't had the chance to before?  

Daniel Giordano: I am always on the hunt for unique materials to stockpile in my studio. I have my preferred locations for scavenging specific materials in the Hudson Highlands, such as the Newburgh waterfront/Hudson River shoreline for industrial detritus. I harvest cattails off the country road, collect deceased spotted lantern flies behind the local gym, and bald eagle excrement from the wildlife rehabilitation center. I also tap into the time capsule of the industrial equipment and raw materials that remain in my family's former coat factory. Uncovering these materials becomes autobiographical archaeology. I use substances and objects that embody my memories, speak to my native landscape, and emerge from rampant consumerist culture.

At the moment, I am seeking galactic patterned bathroom-stall partitions. The kind you might find in a bowling alley or middle school. My goal is to use them to create angular outdoor sculptures. Think in the manner of the 5th Angel, Ramiel, in Evangelion.

Pleasure pipe LXXIX [Jupiter Optimus Maximus (Revisited)].  Photo courtesy of Argenis Apolinario 

Clare Gemima: Pleasure pipe LXXIX [Jupiter Optimus Maximus (Revisited)] was the most outstanding piece in The Simonetti Effect. An inflatable, double-sided skeleton flails in the wind, aided by an electric blower that's been thrust into a glazed cauldron-like structure, embedded with concrete bricks. Combining ideas of fornication and inevitable demise, the sculpture’s concoction of weighted and levitating materials feels sexy in and of itself. How has this work been revisited since its original inception?

Daniel Giordano: I made my first parlor sized Pleasure pipe (Jupiter Optimus Maximus – my thirteenth in the series) to match the larger than life character I believed my grandfather, Frank Giordano, to have been. This ‘revisited’ version is my first weatherproof sculpture, and contains 3D-printed fragments by Gracelee Lawerance. I will occasionally incorporate works by other artist's into my own. It's a way of absorbing, recycling, and modifying their work to fit into my creations, and a way to promote them.

Clare Gemima: Share a ‘day in the life of Daniel Giordano at Vicki Island – the mysterious and majestic factory you make all of your work in? 

Daniel Giordano: That is confidential information.

Clare Gemima: What is the biggest misconception your audience has of you and your production? 

Daniel Giordano: Other than the fact that all I create are dicks?

Perhaps a misconception that people have of me is that my relentless lifestyle, including my dress code, is a performance. My modus operandi is self-preservation, and I dress in layers to protect my skin from sun damage and aging. I aim to be the best possible version of myself, enforcing an athlete's around-the-clock regimented schedule and conditioning, but as a professional in the arts. I am on a very strict diet of certified organic, whole food, and plant-based nutrients (with no added salt, sugar, or oil) to reverse the increased risk of Western diseases I have already built up in my body from the animal products and industrial pollutants consumed throughout my lifetime. The concept of a “cheat day” is counterintuitive because it would compromise my health and prevent me from functioning optimally. In general, I try to make every interaction I have with others, and anything else I do goal oriented. My lifestyle choices don’t leave much room for socializing in the conventional sense, and that suits my flow through the world just fine.

Daniel Giordano’s The Simonetti Effect, showing at The Azarian McCullough Art Gallery at St. Thomas Aquinas College, Costello Hall, 125 NY-340, Sparkill, NY 10976, will run to April 7, 2025.

In order to make an appointment to visit, contact the artist here.