He’s the so-called King of Cashmere, but at the very heart of Brunello Cucinelli’s philosophy lies a hillside hamlet in Umbria rather than a fashion empire.
Since the 1980s, Cucinelli has overseen the thoughtful restoration of Solomeo, a project rooted in a belief that architecture, like craftsmanship, must serve the dignity of humanity. Here, he has expanded his company’s operations, while also building a theater and a library, among many other projects, laying the foundation for a slower, more soulful vision of luxury: one meant to last not only a season, but for centuries.
[Read our In-depth Look at Brunello Cucinelli and The Italian Design Houses Reconnecting with their Roots here]
You’ve called much of your life’s work a “project for beauty.” What does beauty mean to you, and how does it manifest itself in the way you approach architecture, craftsmanship and design?
Brunello Cucinelli: [He tilts the camera to show the lofted ceiling of the tower he is calling from.]
There is some writing on the wall there by Emmanuel Kant that says: “The beautiful is the symbol of the morally good.” And there is another philosopher who states, beauty and order (meant as tidiness) are the laws of the universe. The ancient Greeks tell us that we have to leave or bequeath a city that is more beautiful than the one that we received when we were born. So basically, beauty has always been placed right at the top of it all: whether that is meant within the sky, the stars, architecture or the workplace. Beauty is mankind.
In 1309 in Siena, the Tuscan city, that is how they said one should live. These were the best years for the city, the splendor of Siena. It is the duty of those who rule the city to rule to the maximum of beauty in order to stir joy and happiness, both in the citizens and the city itself. Beauty is above all. The building where you work needs to be beautiful. The Roman architect Vitruvius used to say that any building must be solid or robust, useful to the world but also to creation, and so [it should] be beautiful.
You’ve spoken about practicing “humanist capitalism.” How does this philosophy guide the way you run your business?
My dream was to set up a business where people would work with ethics, dignity and morals. It means that human beings need to work in a pleasant environment, be paid fair wages and work fair hours, and the company must make a fair profit. I would say that fairness is the all-encompassing concept.
The inspiration came from the teary eyes of my father, who was demeaned and belittled at work. People at work need to be surrounded by beautiful places: They need to see the sky, they need to be treated as thinking souls. Since I witnessed with my own eyes my father and siblings being demeaned at work, I decided I didn’t want to do that.
How does architecture, from Solomeo’s restoration to the design of your company’s workspaces, give this dignity to the worker?
When we restored the village, we did it by listening to the spirits here, what is all around us, and what would be fitting for it. This tower that I’m sitting in dates back to 1391. So, who am I now, today, sitting here? I am just a temporary guardian, in temporary passing. So we restored the village, but when we built something new, we always tried to do it with eternity in mind.
You see, the theater that we built will probably still be standing in 1,000 years’ time. The winery will still be there in 1,000 years’ time. The library will still be there in 1,000 years’ time. And I will say that the dignity of man will still be standing in 1,000 years’ time in this valley, because — as John Ruskin put it — they have been built in such a way that they can endure eternity.
What details of Solomeo – architectural or otherwise – make you feel that this is a place where beauty and dignity are truly being lived?
When taking a stroll, and when I raise my eyes, I immediately meet the busts of the great thinkers of mankind. You are surrounded by Confucius, Heraclitus, Leonardo. And on each and every building, there is a small title with quotations from the biggest thinkers. Right at the entrance of this tower, there is a quotation from Hadrian, the emperor: “I felt responsible for the beauty of the world.”
When I lived in the countryside, I would look around and see those orderly fields, or the orderly collection of rainwater, or the fields of olive groves that were so trimmed and looked after. See, that is beauty. There is beauty in how it is looked after. [Alexander] Pope said: “Order is the first law of the heavens.”
In the past, when great cathedrals were being built, the workers laying the foundations knew that perhaps their grandchildren would still be building the spires. The Duomo in Milan took centuries. What will be left of us? We build for eternity. My home dates back to the 17th century. How many people were crying, pouring tears over these sets of stones; how many people were making love or being joyful in those 700 years? I think the concrete works stay and remain, but also the thoughts and the thinking stay on.
Many of your restoration projects, from Solomeo’s Universal Library to the Teatro Morlacchi in Perugia, focus on restoring cultural spaces. Is that kind of regeneration important to you?
I have restored a Tuscan arch that dates back to the third century BCE. But when you restore something that dates back 500, 1,000 years ago – whether it’s a church, a monastery, an arch – it’s all culture. It might not be related to books. It relates to my lecture on Genius Loci.
When the monks were thinking about building a monastery that lasts 1,500 years, they would go to a specific place and carefully study the wind blowing, the water, the people around: That is the spirit of the place, and that is the way in which they chose to build at a specific place, to build something. This is very important as the spirit of the place, the genius loci, is the master of all arts.
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