Deep within the mountainous landscapes of Tuscany, artist Anna Chiara Stagi grew up surrounded by the legends and folklore of the Apuan Alps. These early encounters with traditional fairy tales, mysterious spirits, and the darker undertones of folklore continue to shape her haunting visual language today. Through delicate yet unsettling imagery, Stagi explores themes of metamorphosis, nature, and the liminal space between humanity and the wild. In this interview, she reflects on the influence of folklore, the emotional power of nature, and how art has helped her navigate personal struggles and transformation.
You grew up surrounded by folklore in the Apuan Alps. How did those early experiences shape your imagination?
I was born and raised in small villages among the Apuan Alps in Tuscany. From a very early age I listened to the legends tied to those mountains—stories of mischievous little spirits and mysterious figures that seemed to inhabit the forests and ridges. My parents also filled my childhood with traditional fairy tales, reading and telling them to me again and again.
Those stories always left me with a sense of unease as much as wonder: they fascinated me, but they also unsettled me.
Compared with many contemporary stories, the ancient tales of folklore, even in their more softened versions, always carry deeper meanings. They are not merely stories for children, but lessons. Their starkness and vivid imagery are precisely what give them their power. The use of clear archetypes turns them into guidance rather than simple entertainment.
They are not just little tales—they are warnings, shaped so that children learn how to recognize danger and avoid trouble. In a way, it is their duty to be memorable, to disturb young minds just enough that the lesson stays with them when they encounter perilous situations in real life.
Those sensations never truly left me. Over time they transformed into images, and bringing them into the open became a way to exorcise them.
The Apuan Alps, Italy By Sandra Ross - Own work, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=64565971
The Apuan Alps, Italy By Paolo Negretti - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=120399541
Transformation and metamorphosis appear in many of your works. What draws you to this theme?
I am drawn to the concept of metamorphosis as a revelation of a deeper identity. According to folklore, this was a skill typical of liminal beings—those who dwell on the threshold of the elsewhere.
It reminds me that there was a time when we were not considered so separate or distant from Nature; we were interconnected, as in the ancient pagan cults. Later, this connection was demonized through a Christian reinterpretation, becoming the domain of witches and demons.
Today, I feel that we belong a little to everything and a little to nothing, eroded by the very concepts of nationhood and homeland, which confine us further and entrench us in our fears.
I like to imagine that my creatures—often self-portraits—exist in a deeper connection with Nature, breaking boundaries and returning to an original humanity, one imbued with spirituality and meaning.
Nature carries a powerful presence in your work. What does the natural world represent to you?
I first developed a passion for art while studying the Romantic period in middle school. It was then that the idea of the sublime in relation to Nature took hold of my imagination and has never left me since.
I have always felt that something profoundly divine resides within the natural world—a force that ultimately escapes our control, no matter how persistently humanity has tried, throughout history, to challenge and overcome it.
To me, the sublime and the picturesque represent two different ways of approaching Nature. I enjoy moving between these dimensions, alternating them according to the subject I choose to depict.
What fascinates me most are the emotions that Nature awakens—fear, reverence, and gratitude. They are complex and layered feelings, carrying within them the long journey of humanity itself.
From a historical perspective, I have also grown deeply interested in sacred groves and the ancient cults devoted to Nature, though this is a subject that could open an entire world of reflection.
Does the act of drawing help you understand yourself?
Drawing is a way of understanding myself. When I begin a new piece, I rarely know where it will lead. I rely a great deal on chance, and this allows me to move backwards through the process, asking myself why certain choices emerged—why a particular subject, or a certain color.
When I was in middle school, I began to struggle with major depression, which remained a constant presence in my life for nearly a decade. I was fortunate, however, to be surrounded by many friends and a family who were deeply attentive and who always encouraged me to express myself, including through art. In many ways, they believed in me even more than I believed in myself.
Today I am well, and I sometimes feel like an entirely different person. I only open that drawer of negativity when I sense it beginning to fill again. When that happens, it is time to create something that helps me close it once more—to let those feelings out.
I believe there is still a strong stigma surrounding mental health, and I am sincerely glad to share my experience, especially now that I know it is possible to feel better. I hope that, in some small way, this might offer hope to someone else.
Which artists, filmmakers, or musicians have influenced your work?
My love for Edvard Munch has marked me for life. He was an artist who seemed to have already understood everything about the tragedy of being human. At the same time, there is an extraordinary delicacy in some of his prints that I carry with me deeply.
Alphonse Mucha and Sergio Toppi taught me a new way of thinking about composition. Odilon Redon revealed to me a sense of magic, while Francisco Goya showed me ferocity.
When it comes to cinema, I cannot fail to mention David Cronenberg, David Lynch, Guillermo del Toro, Robert Eggers, and Satoshi Kon, whose atmospheres are simply extraordinary.
An honorable mention also goes to progressive music, which has accompanied me for as long as I can remember—especially bands like Genesis, Opeth, and Katatonia.
What projects are you currently working on?
These days, I’ve been collaborating with publishers and musicians, primarily on cover art, and I feel truly grateful for everything that’s happening, as well as for the many collaboration requests I’ve received. I’m also thankful to you for giving me the chance to share a glimpse of my work.
I’m currently working on a collection of Italian folklore fairy tales, each accompanied by illustrations. Who knows—perhaps one day this project will finally see the light of day.
Artist image via: https://www.stagahartworks.com/about/
