Fondazione Vico Magistretti connects the prolific designer’s legacy with students and art lovers alike

Spend any time with Margherita Pellino and you will come away feeling as though you personally knew the eminent Milanese architect and industrial designer Vico Magistretti. You might learn about his love for all things English (so much so that he kept a park bench in his studio, revelling in its lack of comfort) or the fact that he wasn’t to be crossed when it came to having his sacred daily post-lunch nap. Magistretti died in 2006 but his spirit lives on at the city’s foundation, museum and archive that bears his name, housed in the space where he used to work. 

“We spent so much time together,” says Pellino, Magistretti’s granddaughter, who runs the foundation. “He really loved his work. It was the thing that he was truly sure about in his life.” 

Places such as the Magistretti foundation are the lifeblood of Milan’s design scene. As well as being a goldmine for students who come to use the archive – taking inspiration from his most famous designs, such as the Eclisse light produced for Artemide in 1966 and the Atollo light from 1977 for Oluce – they also offer an intimate experience that bigger cultural centres can’t replicate. Coming here is a personal schooling in what motivated Magistretti during his lifetime and the opportunity to feel included in it. “We’re part of the story of the city,” says Pellino. “We have the chance, without being pretentious, to give something back.”

Before taking over the archive, she had worked for a photo agency but it’s clear, listening to the warmth with which she speaks, that she has found her calling. Poring over the 7,000 photos, 30,000 designs, 120 diaries and the 50 models that comprise the basement-level archive is a big task but it’s also cathartic for Pellino, who says that she can make some of Magistretti’s stories re-emerge – tales that she wished she had paid more attention to as a child. Pellino jokes that she doesn’t like the term but a big part of what the foundation has done is “heritage marketing” through cultural exhibitions. 

In the past two years, the foundation has presented a show on Magistretti’s life in the UK, including the time that he spent teaching at London’s Royal College of Art and, for last year’s Design Week, More or Less 60 Chairs in 60 Years – a play on the fact that he did few exhibitions in his lifetime, with two of the most important being 20 Years, 20 Seats in Milan in 1980 and 21 Years, 21 Seats in London the following year. For 2026, the space is hosting Vico Magistretti and Japan, curated by ecal’s Davide Fornari. 

“We thought that every two years we could do an exhibition on Vico’s geographical influences,” says Pellino, explaining that the idea is to alternate years with thematic exhibitions (2027 will focus on lamps). Vico Magistretti and Japan features miniatures of 20 of Magistretti’s industrial-design projects in Japan, from lights to beds and tables to photos and illustrations for his architectural works, including a now-demolished residence in Tokyo and two unbuilt homes by the sea. 

Pellino is enthusiastic about this deep dive into Magistretti’s life and work. She is part of a network of dedicated family members, from Achille Castiglioni’s daughter Giovanna to Gae Aulenti’s granddaughter Nina Artioli, who are keeping alive foundations, archives and studio museums. And while there are question marks about what happens if family members are no longer willing or able to steward such legacies, Pellino knows that the Magistretti archive is protected by the state. Until the day comes when she hangs up her archivist gloves, she will continue delving into the past to keep future generations informed about her grandfather’s work. “He’s the grandparent that I miss the least,” she says. “Because I’m with him every day.”

‘Vico Magistretti and Japan’ is open until 25 February 2027.