ARTCAST MEETS TOTOCOP 🤍

PORNOBUNNY Aka TOTOCOP 🤍, he is a queer artist and visual storyteller whose research moves effortlessly between pop culture, sculpture, and contemporary visual languages. Born in Sicily, in a small seaside town in the province of Palermo, he grew up immersed in light, imagination, and a precocious desire for transformation. From childhood, creativity became for him a tool for survival, dreaming, and constant self-reinvention.

Driven by enthusiasm, ambition, and a strong desire for rebirth, he moved to Rome, where he graduated in Communications and realized one of his greatest dreams by working in television. His television career led him to conceive and develop numerous successful projects, including variety shows, documentaries, and reality formats, honing a profound sense of narrative, pacing, and emotional impact. Storytelling, image, and timing became central elements in building his artistic voice.

Art has always been an integral part of his DNA. He comes from a family deeply rooted in artistic education and creative sensibility: both his parents are art teachers, while his sister is a jewelry designer for one of Italy's leading luxury brands. In this context, he absorbed a wide range of expressive languages ​​from a young age—from drawing to music, from audiovisuals to craftsmanship—developing the conviction that life itself is a continuous artistic act.

With the PORNOBUNNY project, TOTOCOP 🤍 decides to channel his multidisciplinary background into a clear and powerful message in support of the queer community to which he belongs. The white heart 🤍, the hallmark of his practice, represents its essence: honesty in provocation, tenderness in explicitness, love as an act of visibility. Even in the most daring expressions, his work is guided by authenticity and care.

Through TOTOCOP 🤍, personal history is transformed into collective imagination and art becomes a free space where queer bodies, emotions, and desires can finally exist, be seen, and celebrated.

What is art for you?

For me, art is an important tool for expressing my emotions. I've never approached art academically, despite having studied it extensively as a boy and thoroughly enjoying the artistic experiences that have gone down in history. I've always seen it as a practical means of expressing the intangibility of sensations. For me, art is about feeling, perceiving, exploring, and giving form to the formless. It's the practical aspect of my life in the clouds.

When did you realize that creativity wasn't just a form of expression, but a true form of survival and personal transformation?

Right away, very early in my life. I don't know if it's related to the characteristics of my zodiac sign: several astrologers I've met through my television work have told me so, even though I don't really believe in a predictable future. However, it seems that the sign of Pisces is inherently very creative. I must say that being creative has helped me a lot in my life: it's a quality that has allowed me to provide explanations and find different, unconventional ways of interpreting things. Years of life have given me the opportunity to understand how to channel it to find satisfaction, but it hasn't always been easy, because I've always been two-faced. A little nerd, in love with mathematics, and at the same time a teller of incredible stories. A goal-oriented athlete and, at the same time, an imaginative dreamer who withdrew from the world around him. In short: body and mind, pragmatism and mental abstraction. Opposites that sometimes clash, creating a terrible mess, and sometimes give me the strength to always do more, to improve myself and fuel my creativity.

How has your experience in the world of television influenced the way you construct images, narratives, and emotional impact in art?

As a child, TV was both a dream come true and a goal to be pursued with determination. In twenty years of experience, I've been fortunate enough to explore various forms of television writing: from talent shows to reality shows, from in-depth journalism to documentary work. I've created both high-profile and downright trashy content, and each experience has given me the opportunity to tell a thousand stories and a thousand emotions through images. However, I've always chronicled the lives of others, whereas with my art I can express my own emotions. It's something more intimate, something that engages me personally. I like to think that on TV I create primarily for the audience's satisfaction and, secondarily, for myself; with my art, I do the opposite. In any case, they are two worlds—TV and art—that interact and feed off each other. For example, in a famous talent show I wrote for several years ( Tu sì que vales ), I often used my artistic creativity to stage the performers' performances, and some of those performances inspired a series of new sculptures I'll be creating soon.

What does the transition from television storytelling to artistic, freer and more personal storytelling mean to you?

As I said before, it's not a real transition. There's no before and after, but rather a highly collaborative coexistence. Luckily, I can express my emotions in both worlds. Only the purpose probably changes. On TV, you work for approval based on numbers, as do my works, but primarily I focus on personal approval. In any case, both when I write and when I create my sculptures, I imagine a narrative that both tells a story and evokes emotion.

The white heart  🤍  has become an iconic symbol of your work: how did it come about and how has it evolved over time?

Now that I think about it, the heart as a symbol is a constant in my working life. On TV, they often create outlines or scripts, and I've always had the habit of writing my name on the first page so as not to lose them. My name, as far back as I can remember, has always been accompanied by a heart. It's curious: I chose it as my artistic signature rationally, to convey the absolute and pure love that transcends all the emotions I describe, but subconsciously, it's evidently a symbol that's part of me. In fact, a small heart is also engraved on my neck, without a specific story, but with great symbolic meaning.

How do provocation and tenderness coexist in your works without canceling each other out?

Thank you for perfectly capturing two of the constants in my narratives. Each work tells a story in which the protagonist—or protagonists—experiences a strong emotion, positive or negative, which in any case generates arousal. An arousal visible through the body's reaction. Arousal is therefore the visual manifestation of that emotion and always pertains to an experience of the protagonist who, in a tender way, allows himself to be emotionally carried away. That arousal, in my narrative, is provocation. When I have the opportunity to speak with those who observe my works, I always ask a question:  "What did you instinctively feel when you looked?" 80% answer "embarrassment," and I'm happy, because that embarrassment at noticing the arousal of an erect penis is exactly the first sensation I want to evoke. The payoff—that's what we call it in screenwriting—is a subsequent authentic connection. After the embarrassment, attention focuses more strongly on the message.

How has the PORNOBUNNY project transformed your artistic practice and your relationship with the queer community?

With PORNOBUNNY, I've realized a creative impulse. It's a project I care deeply about because it gives me the opportunity to express thoughts that embrace the queer cause. I've never been an activist, though I've always supported initiatives aimed at promoting the inclusivity of the LGBT community. However, I feel that in recent months, many of the advances made by humanity on queer issues—from adoption to the freedom to love, to the ability to express oneself beyond any categorization—have been wiped out with a stroke of a pen. I don't agree with the world as it is today. I'm sad because hate too often replaces love. The queer world is often experienced as uncomfortable or embarrassing, and this hurts me. I'll share a recent anecdote: a few days ago, I went to a major art fair (Bergamo Arte Fiera) to say hello to a gallery owner who was exhibiting my work in Bergamo. Wandering around the stands, I showed my portfolio to a gallery owner. Her gaze immediately fell on the erect members of my works and, almost disgusted, she closed the digital portfolio saying:  "No, this stuff isn't suitable for my collectors. Your works are suitable for special clients; my clients are families." At that moment, I felt a little hurt. She stopped at the first layer, got scared, and built a wall. My dream is that "special clients" don't exist, but rather people capable of feeling emotions, beyond any orientation or provocation.

How important is personal experience in your work, and when do you feel the need to transform it into a collective imagination?

Personal experience matters enormously. I can give form to emotions because, in some way, I've experienced them or felt them through the lives of others. Transforming them into a collective imagination is not easy and, above all, it's not what I want. The very concept of collective imagination scares me, because it evokes uniformity of thought. I'm a great supporter of individual thought, oriented towards respect for other individuals and guided by love rather than hate.

What does it mean to you to make historically marginalized bodies, desires, and emotions visible?

It's important. I don't want to sound like a champion, but simply to affirm a state of existence and therefore of importance. If a thought, an emotion, a sensation exists, it's important to know it. Knowledge can enrich anyone, even the most arid person. I associate marginalization with the supremacy of the powerful over the vulnerable. Vulnerability shouldn't be demonized, but welcomed, understood, and shared. The world cannot and shouldn't belong only to the strong. We all have a voice and can use it to say:  "I exist."

How do pop culture, sculpture, and contemporary visual language interact in your creative process?

They communicate naturally. Contemporary visual language is the foundation of my narratives. Many of my sculptures capture movement: the figures are frozen in the height of ecstasy while performing an action. I find movement more interesting and modern than a static pose. Visually, my works embrace pop culture: glossy surfaces, bright colors, exaggerated shapes. A decidedly pop imagery.

What kind of experience do you want to leave to those who come into contact with the TOTOCOP universe  🤍 ?

An experience of pleasant discovery. When I admire the works of my favorite artists, I feel pleasure. I hope, one day, to be able to inspire the same feeling in many people.

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