Watching Marcello Pipitone’s hands move through fabrics and embroidery, you immediately sense a deeply artistic craftsmanship: gesture as a vessel for research and culture; sporting paradigms, in this case rooted in hockey, transforming through contact with design and visual intuition without losing meaning, but instead intensifying their essence. Then you trace the hockey biography of this talented Milan-based artist and understand the real connection between his vision and the world of the rink.

A connection celebrated at a pivotal moment for global hockey, the contemporary one, alongside a partner, Nike, that is actively shaping the cultural evolution of the sport, both on and off the ice. From this synergy first emerged a unique piece: a vibrant tapestry composed of details drawn from the kits of international federations united by the Swoosh. Then came a workshop fueled by the endless suggestions hockey can offer to those who truly know how to see.

Surrounded by the lyrical graphics created for the occasion, we had the opportunity to speak directly with Pipitone, uncovering the points of contact between his artistic philosophy and the kinetic realm populated by sticks and puck: a realm he inhabits both as a conscious interpreter and as a sincere enthusiast.

First of all, we’d love to know what hockey looks like through the eyes of an artist. What does this sport evoke when you experience it live? What artistic nuances do you find inside the rink?

“My first encounter with hockey goes back to when I used to hang out with friends in my neighborhood in Milan, near the Agorà, the city’s historic ice arena. That’s where Hockey Club Saima used to play. I still remember that arena; it’s the same one featured in the music video for Madonna by Ernia and Rkomi. About six or seven years ago, I watched my first game there. It was a formative moment. When I later began developing artistic and socio-cultural concepts connected to hockey, my mind immediately went back to that experience and to Saima’s reality. The atmosphere was something unique: AC Milan and Inter fans standing in the same section, chanting together. It felt surreal. When you stepped outside the arena, there was this lingering sense of freedom that’s hard to explain. What struck me most about the game itself was the idea of controlled violence. You see players colliding brutally, seemingly injuring each other, and seconds later they’re shaking hands as if nothing happened. In some ways it reminds me of rugby: almost disorienting in its naturalness. Two opposing teams clashing with extreme intensity, yet within a code built on absolute respect. That balance between performance and respect is incredibly powerful to me. From an athletic standpoint, hockey is one of the most complex disciplines out there. It demands excellence in skating, balance, stick handling, and puck control. It’s impossible not to admire these athletes. 

There’s also something else that fascinates me: in Italy it’s still a relatively niche sport, which makes the players’ dedication even more evident. Many of them don’t earn what they could overseas or in Nordic countries. That gives the sport a sense of purity. From the stands, hockey is sound and impact. The energy released by the bodies is astonishing. Players slamming into the boards, braking at full speed, carving perfect arcs on the ice. Precision is mandatory. Unlike other sports, where chance can intervene, here everything has to be, in some way, perfect. Think of the goalie covering almost the entire net: either the shot is flawless, or the puck doesn’t go in. To my eyes, that pursuit of perfection in full motion becomes artistic expression. It’s a constant balance between technical control and the violence of impact. As a spectator, you’re tense, even slightly afraid, but deeply involved. Watching a player lose two teeth and then score moments later leaves you speechless. Even the crowd is different. It’s not like a football stadium where silence falls if the main stand goes quiet. In hockey, you hear everyone. Each person reacts, shouts, participates. A single hit or a save triggers both individual and collective reactions. A hockey game is a total experience: physical and emotional.”

At the store we had the chance to admire your special “tapestry.” What was it like diving into Nike’s contemporary archive, and into the designs of the federations it sponsors, to shape this piece? And what did you want to communicate through this composition?

“My approach was synthetic and direct. I imagined a large flag representing the playing field, and within it I inserted fabrics from different jerseys, creating lines that reinterpret the marks left by skate blades on the ice. In those lines I noticed a graphic affinity with Milan’s Biscione (Snake), so I decided to integrate it. The creative process was fairly rapid. I followed intuition and strong connections that felt coherent from the start. When I began studying Nike’s graphics and designs, I felt the need to give voice to the elements within each kit. Hockey uniforms have something almost martial about them: they remind me of samurai armor, objects designed for battle. At the same time, the shapes of skates, gloves, and protective gear speak of research and functionality. 

I realized it would have been impossible to analyze every single element in depth. So I chose a humble approach, grounded mostly in historical research. I gathered everything a uniform can represent, past and present, and merged it with the original contexts of hockey: ice, lakes, mountains, the natural environments that surrounded the pioneers of the sport and still surround those who play it outdoors today. Collaborating with Nike is always extraordinary. The attention to detail is incredible. I noticed differences between national jerseys that I hadn’t expected: unique patch placements, exclusive symbols, distinct stitching. The Finnish lion, Canada’s patches, the American team’s emblems… I felt a responsibility to preserve those details. That’s where the idea of parallel lines came from, like players’ legs carving into the ice. As I drew them, a sort of undulating checkerboard emerged: an abstract pattern that I later transformed into a garment template. I always try to create something that first and foremost pleases the eye. And I have to admit, from that perspective as well, working on this piece was deeply rewarding.”

Speaking of this piece, what do your artistic, and sporting, perspectives tell you about the hockey jersey as an object beyond the rink?

“The jersey is probably the most accessible and normalized element of hockey culture. Despite being so unique, it’s surprisingly easy to wear outside of sport. You can layer it over a hoodie, treat it as a statement piece, and that gives it a distinctive stylistic power. Unlike other disciplines, hockey jerseys aren’t excessively fitted. In the rink, you don’t see that obsession with compression silhouettes that has reshaped football or basketball aesthetics over time. Hockey retains a looser, more authentic fit, allowing anyone to wear it with confidence. That freedom of form makes the hockey jersey, in my opinion, a highly contemporary object: easy to integrate into a modern wardrobe.”

In this workshop, you created a series of surreal graphics: true collages inspired by hockey as muse. What details did you want to celebrate?

“The goalie mask is one of the most evocative elements. It carries medieval echoes, almost like a fragment of ancient armor. The leg pads, with their parallel structures designed to slide across the ice, are aesthetically incredible. In reality, all the equipment is visually stimulating. Studying past Nike products, I found design solutions and lines never used in other sports. Starting from something as simple as the skate’s shape, I developed hybrid, undefined objects, somewhere between an iron and a yacht. 

I’m also fascinated by everything surrounding the game: the machines that smooth the ice, almost like small technical trucks; the net built to withstand violent shots; the plexiglass boards players crash into. These are details that leave you in awe as a spectator. For the workshop, I chose a direct, almost didactic approach to leave space for participation. I combined jersey materials with images of glaciers and frozen lakes, sourced even through satellite research. For the graphics printed on the jerseys, I worked across different tones and color adjustments, offering multiple variations to choose from. With my embroidery machine, participants could also personalize their pieces. It was fascinating to see some of them layer prints in combinations I hadn’t imagined. I believe workshops should leave room for interpretation: not force a concept, but activate a shared creative process.”

After this immersion into hockey culture and imagery, do you think the sport will continue to be part of your artistic practice? And if you were to imagine an ideal hockey-related project, what would it look like?

“Absolutely. When this project was entrusted to me, I discovered that a friend of mine has played hockey his entire life. He introduced me to a specialized shop just a few meters from my studio. Walking in felt like opening a door to an entirely new world. I’d love to visit factories where gloves and skates are produced, to understand how they’re assembled. Some objects are so complex that you need to see them being made to truly grasp them. I don’t know if anything for the NHL is produced in Italy, but I’d love to find out. I’ve also heard that a new hockey team may be formed in Milan. If that happens, I’d love to present the flag I created to the club and see it hanging inside the arena. So yes, I believe this dialogue with hockey is far from over. If anything, it’s only just beginning.”