08/23/2026
A great man has left us.
Giancarlo Olgiati was, first and foremost, a friend. An older brother whom I already miss deeply. He was a true and sincere friend—one of those extraordinary people one rarely meets in life. Giancarlo, like Gianni and Germano, was truly one of a kind. He was a liberal—like me—and this bond united us from the very first day we met in Valencia, at the Christian Stein retrospective at the IVAM.
When we first met, we didn't talk about art, but about food and w**e—a passion we always shared. He knew everything about w**e: from the w**es of Burgundy and Bordeaux to the great w**es of Piedmont, Tuscany, Sicily, and Spain, and even those of the New World. Yet, his true passion was art. He was a distinctive collector with very clear ideas; true to his liberal spirit, he felt—and always was—deeply free in his choices. In short, he was an independent spirit: he did not follow the fads or trends of the moment, and he kept his distance from those who did. He knew how to look at a work of art and how to make a choice. He knew how to observe works, and he would often tell me: "You look at works of art with your eyes, but you feel them with your gut." He was rarely wrong, yet he knew how to acknowledge his own mistakes—a rarity that only the truly great can afford. Although he was always interested in the avant-garde movements that preceded us, he always looked to the future, closely following young artists and contemporary movements.
I always felt a deep bond with Giancarlo, not only because of our shared love of art but also because we could both count on the love and passion of two extraordinary women—our partners in life and on our journey: Danna for Giancarlo and Nancy for me.
I am deeply saddened by your passing, dear friend. I owe you a great deal and feel like a lucky man—lucky to have met you and to have shared the world of art with you.
Give my regards to Gianni and Germano.
Giorgio
