Lindsay Marie Morris

Dance is yet another medium to paint, sculpt, and transform spaces, says Sicilian-born choreographer Nunzio Impellizzeri. The former visual artist founded Nunzio Impellizzeri Dance Company in 2014 with a mission of offering audiences unique perspectives and experiences as well as a way to dissect and question social behavior.

 

The company's work has been internationally recognized, with performances in theaters and at international festivals in Switzerland, Germany, Russia, Italy, Poland, Finland, Denmark, Chile, Spain, and North and Central America.

 

They're currently gearing up for the November 20 premiere of PINK CARPET, which explores the boundaries between reality and imagination. The piece coincides with the company's tenth-anniversary celebration.

 

I recently caught up with Nunzio to learn more about his journey to choreography and the company's productions.

 

 

Where do you live, and where are you and your family from?

I live in Zurich, Switzerland, but my roots are in Acireale, a baroque city in Sicily, where my family still lives. This keeps me very much connected to my land and its culture. I left Italy in 2003 and traveled around Europe for my dance career. In 2008, I moved to Switzerland, where, later, in 2014, I founded the Nunzio Impellizzeri Dance Company. Looking at today, Zurich is the place where I've lived the longest.

 

Can you tell us about your journey into the world of dance and choreography?

My journey started in the visual arts. I studied art history, sculpture, and costume design, but I always felt something was missing. It wasn't until I stumbled into a rehearsal and observed a choreographer working that I felt that "click"—suddenly, I knew that movement was the language I was searching for. Dance gave me a way to sculpt space with the body, to paint with motion. It opened up possibilities that static art forms couldn't.

 

In 2008, an injury—the breaking of my knee during a performance—became a turning point. That moment was pivotal because it forced me to reflect on what I really wanted. It was a hard period, but in the midst of that challenge, I saw an opportunity to pursue my dream of choreography. In 2009, I was selected for the SIWIC platform for young choreographers, and that was the confirmation I needed. By 2014, I had founded the Nunzio Impellizzeri Dance Company to explore the infinite relationship between the body and space and create a dialogue that connects us all through movement.

 

Our company now works closely with internationally renowned dancers and collaborators, and we've had the privilege of performing at theaters and festivals around the world—from Switzerland and Germany to Chile and North America. What I'm most proud of is the way our work resonates with audiences, offering them a new perspective on dance and movement.

 

How has your background in visual arts influenced your approach to choreography and dance?

Visual arts is the foundation of how I think about dance. I don't just see movement; I see structure, space, and texture. For me, choreography is like architecture in motion. The body sculpts the space it moves through, and that interaction creates a dialogue not just with the audience but with the air, the light, and the ground. Every piece I create is designed with that in mind. Lighting, set design, and costumes aren't just accessories—they're extensions of the movement itself. I often design the costumes because they're integral to the concept of the creation.

 

The body is a living canvas, constantly generating energy. That energy moves beyond the physical; it moves the soul and creates connections. Dance allows me to see beyond what is in front of me. It keeps me connected to life in a visceral way, and it shapes how I perceive others and how I relate to the world.

 

Your works often reflect social phenomena. Tell us how you choose the themes for your productions.

My inspiration often comes from everyday life—things we see but don't necessarily pay attention to. Sometimes, it's something I've ignored for a while, and then it suddenly captures my interest, almost obsessively. From there, I dig into it—researching through lectures, films, art, philosophy, mythology—until I form the framework for the piece.

 

The themes I choose often come from observing human behavior in social contexts. Dance is such a powerful way to explore identity, silence, and connection—things that deeply resonate with our current times. I believe dance can move not only the body but the mind and soul. It challenges people to reflect on the world around them and to question and see things differently. My goal is to create works that spark dialogue and inspire reflection.

 

How do you integrate elements like set design, lighting, and costumes into your choreography?

These elements are not separate from the movement; they're intertwined. The body moves, it stirs the air, it transforms the space. Set design, lighting, and costumes amplify these dynamics. For me, it's about creating a holistic experience where everything works together to heighten the audience's perception.

 

Much like an architect designs a building to interact with its surroundings, I design my sets and lighting to interact with the dancers' movements. Costumes, too, play a key role—they're not just what the dancers wear but a part of how they move and inhabit the space.

 

Tell us about more PINK CARPET.

This piece is very personal to me. It delves into the boundary between reality and imagination, inspired by my mother's experience with Alzheimer's. The carpet itself becomes a symbol—a bridge between the tangible and the intangible. It's a deeply emotional journey, both for me and, I hope, for the audience.

 

What else is on the horizon?

2024 has been very intense with many projects. I recently finished the creation of CIRCOLANDO as a guest choreographer for a Swiss dance company, and now I'm also looking forward to FLAM.ME.UM, premiering in Germany at the Anhaltischen Theater Dessau in January 2025. This piece explores the evolving concept of identity, something I feel is more relevant than ever. Both pieces reflect my ongoing exploration of how personal experiences can resonate universally, connecting us through the unpredictable flow of life.

 

Can you share a memorable moment or experience from your career that has significantly impacted you?

Creating SCH.NEE in 2022 was a turning point for me. The challenge of working with silence and minimalism forced me to push my boundaries as a choreographer. The process required a level of focus and simplicity that I hadn't explored before. Seeing how deeply it resonated with the audience reaffirmed my belief in the power of art to connect people on an emotional level. It was a moment that opened up new dimensions for me as an artist.

 

What advice would you give to aspiring choreographers and dancers?

Stay curious, stay open. Dance is about more than just movement—it's about communication, about connecting with people on a deep level. Your body is a vessel for telling stories, sharing perspectives, and moving the souls of others. Embrace the challenges, and don't be afraid of failure—it's all part of the process.

 

I work with dancers who have strong technical skills, but I also value individuality. I want performers who can bring their own unique qualities to the stage. My advice is to stay true to yourself while remaining open to collaboration. Success, both as an artist and as a person, comes from that balance. Every creation is an opportunity to grow; each experience will shape you in ways you can't predict.

 

 

 

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When speaking about Sicilian cuisine, one frequently encounters the phrase cucina povera. Beyond its literal "poor cuisine" translation, this concept speaks to working with what you have. You can also apply it to life, says award-winning author, podcaster, former executive chef, and ambassador to Milazzo, Sicily, Carmela D'Amore.

As a Sicilian Australian, Carmela grew up in Melbourne's southeastern suburbs with a foot in two different cultures. It wasn't easy. In Carmela's Cucina Povera, she details her experience and her journey to finding herself through Sicilian cooking, along with a collection of 75 recipes.

 

I recently had the opportunity to meet with Carmela, who shared her background and connection to Sicily, the challenges she faced, and what cucina povera has meant to her.

 

 

What is your background?

I was born in Australia. My parents migrated to Australia just after World War II when there was the call.

My paternal side is from Falcone, about half an hour from where my mother lived, Milazzo, in the Messina Province. My husband is from Palermo, so I've got a taste of both East and West Sicily.

 

Why did your parents move to Australia?

It was just after World War II, so most Sicilian towns were very poor. They were bombed during the war. The economy was bad; they had no food, even though they were all fishermen or had other trades. 

My father came with five of his brothers and my grandparents. They were all fishermen. My grandfather was the president of the town's fisheries and wildlife organization. But still, they couldn't foresee a future, something for their children and grandchildren. And it was something that I think war does to you: You think, "How will we get through something like this as a family or as a community?" 

Australia was calling migrants, and there was work. One of my uncles was the first to test the waters, and he said, "There's plenty of us to work all around, and we can make a future." They weren't thinking of staying for too long. 

Sicily is in us. Even though I wasn't born there, I'm very much Sicilian. So, I can imagine what that felt like. Being in a place where you don't know anybody, you don't know the language, you don't know the culture, and yet all you want to do is work. So, you really don't know how you will face the challenges.

 

They worked and settled, and one of my uncles returned to live and stay in Sicily. The other four decided to stay. 

I've struggled myself to think, "Should I go back home and stay in Sicily?" When Sicily is somewhere in your DNA, I think you are always thinking, "Where do I settle?" 

 

What challenges did you face as a Sicilian Australian?

It was tough. It was probably one of the toughest times and a time of shaping and molding. There was already a culture in the southeast suburbs of Australia. So, any new people coming in weren't easily accepted. You had to earn your way in. 

It was nothing like today, someone who doesn't fit in, we call "unique," whereas, in those days, you had to fit in with the crowd, or otherwise, you were out of it. So that causes a split in your personality, where you are one thing at home and one thing in another. I think many children today are finding that even in the cyber world that we live in, in social media, there is a need for acceptance.

 

What does cucina povera mean generally, and what does it mean to you?

Cucina povera is the staple diet, working with what you have and within the seasons where you live. Cucina povera has different shades in every region of Italy. In Sicily, we have nine provinces with nine different dialects. So, there are nine staple recipes. If you have, for example, a recipe that's tomato-based with fennel, in a different province of Sicily, it could be with wild asparagus or with wild rappi, which are rapini greens, depending on which season. It's all about preserving and utilizing your ingredients with the seasons. It's making the best of seasonal ingredients and working with fewer ingredients. 

 

I called my book Carmela's Cucina Povera because my identity is in cucina povera. It is in my DNA; it is who I am. I've been in hospitality for 50 years and an executive chef for over 45 years. I've just retired, but it still is in everything that I do.

 

People use all these different ingredients to make something delicious, but cooking is a way of expressing love. My grandparents, my mother, and all that generation never told us they loved us. They expressed it through food. Cucina povera came through them and gave me a sense of belonging, being, and knowing who I am. 

 

You're a storyteller. Tell us about a classic Sicilian dish.

What I will share is a story that I think will resonate with many people. It starts in the 1800s when we had Queen Maria Carolina and King Ferdinando of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.

Our queen had French chefs, so her French chefs went out and got a wild bird, called beccafico, in the region of Palermo. You can imagine all these French chefs and the contadini, the farmers that are coming in, and the women that are helping them. They're cooking and stuffing the beccafico, and they put the tail up. (The beccafico looks a bit like a robin, so it's got a beautiful tail.)

They cooked it with all the spices: saffron, lemon, and bay leaves. Then, they gave it to the queen. 

The contadini went out and talked to one another. They could not eat that because those wild birds cost a lot of money. But they did have an abundance of sardines coming from the Tyrrhenian Sea. So they decided to make a replica and create it with sardines. Today, sarde a beccafico is world-renowned.

In my mother's town, they make it with anchovies because they don't have the sardines. When Mum made the dish, she would tell me the story of how her grandmother and her grandmother's grandmother made it. Those stories become part of your life.

 

How do you hope your book and cooking will impact others?

I hope my book inspires many people. I'm 65, and I overcame these challenges 55 years ago. So, it's about the resilience of the human spirit.

 

If you really want to change and get better in anything you do, you can always do better. The sun always shines in life. There are always storms and difficulties, but you can realize that you can grow from them. Instead of being a victim, say, "How can I learn from this? What can I learn from this? How can I shape myself and be a better person from this?" 

This is what I found while writing this book. It was to help people if they've had challenges and maybe through the cracks of the pages and the recipes to find more love and concentrate on the love, not the challenges. Because we all go through challenges. We never stop going through challenges in life, but it's where we decide to focus ourselves on what's important.

I'm sure everyone has recipes from their grandmothers. Take them, put them together, and make a little book. You don't have to publish it, but you can create something for other generations to find. I'm sure that in generations to come, someone in the family will say, "I wonder where that recipe comes from." 

We live in a world that is becoming very isolated. I don't come from that world. I come from a world where family and community are the essence of our lives. So, writing this book was important to me because I wanted to embalm the recipes, the people, and the sacrifices they made for their families. It was to honor them because who will remember them if I'm not to talk about them?  

 

>>Get Carmela's Cucina Povera here!<<

 

 

 

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