There is a moment in climbing, brief and instinctive for some, more prolonged and contemplative for others, that precedes the physical act. Before strength, before technique, even before the logic of grading, there is a phase of observation: the eye meets the wall, tracing an imagined line, scanning for vertical possibilities. In that suspended interval, climbing reveals its deeper nature: poised between mental projection and a form of spatial interpretation that borders on the artistic, as much as the physical. It is an inherently personal experience, yet one that acquires further meaning, resonance, and, perhaps above all, potential through collective sharing.

This is the ethos La Sportiva continues to cultivate: an understanding of climbing not as a mere sequence of movements, but as an evolving, identity-forming matrix. A philosophy embedded in the brand’s DNA: rooted in its history, and in its ongoing reflection on the relationship between body and rock. Within this framework, the La Sportiva Climb World Tour operates as a deliberate act of cultural transmission. Launched in Turin at BSide and now extending across some of the most prominent indoor climbing venues globally, the project adopts a nomadic format aimed at amplifying the dialogue between distinct yet interconnected worlds: outdoor and indoor, professionals and amateurs, local communities and the broader global scene.

Through the photographic series captured by Fabrizio Forte, alongside the voices of the three climbers involved in this stop, we sought to distill the most essential dimension of climbing: the same dimension La Sportiva continues to articulate, across geographies and contexts alike.

At Athleta Mag, we always like to start from the very beginning: the spark that ignites each athlete’s passion. In your case, how did climbing first enter your life, and what made you fall in love with it from a sensory perspective?

James Pearson: “I grew up in the Peak District, and the gritstone was always just there. I’d always marvelled at people climbing whilst on family walks out in the countryside, but getting into it myself wasn’t straightforward. Climbing had a reputation for being incredibly dangerous — clinging on for dear life by your fingertips — and it wasn’t something most parents were keen for their kids to get into. I was lucky enough at secondary school to meet someone who climbed, and they took me under their wing. The rest is effectively history.

What really hooked me, sensorially, was something I discovered pretty early on gritstone: the ability to make really hard things feel easy just by adjusting your body position the tiniest amount. That’s true across all rock types, and technique plays a huge part in any climber’s development, but on gritstone it’s especially pronounced. The holds themselves are so subtle that the difference between success and failure is sometimes just the smallest shift in your hips, your shoulders, or even your head. There’s something almost addictive (and often very frustrating) about that: this idea that the solution is always there, you just have to find the right shape for it.”

Caroline Ciavaldini: “That’s actually not an easy question, because it is hard to remember exactly something that happened 20 years ago. But if I remember correctly, what I was really drawn to was the overload of sensations. Climbing is the kind of sport that requires you to focus completely, to the point where you almost disappear into the movements, and only reappear to the world once the route is finished. I think that is what I really loved about it. ”

Elias Iagnemma: “Climbing entered my life quite early, but without a precise moment in which I can say, “This is where it all began.” It was more of a gradual process. At first, it was simply a game, something I enjoyed doing without too many expectations. Over time, however, I realized there was something different about it compared to other sports: a very strong sense of presence. When you are on a boulder or on a route, everything else disappears. What remains is only the movement, the body, the contact with the rock. I think what truly made me fall in love with it was exactly this combination of physicality and mind. It is not just strength, not just technique: it is a kind of ongoing dialogue with yourself and with what you are climbing. And when you find the right movement, you feel everything fall into place. It is a feeling that is difficult to explain, but incredibly powerful.”

We see every sport as a form of art. Where do you find that connection in a discipline like climbing? Do you ever feel like an artist, as well as an athlete, when you’re envisioning, and then completing, a route?

James Pearson: “There’s definitely something artistic in it, particularly in trad climbing where the line itself is something you have to discover and define. When I established Le Voyage at Annot, or Bon Voyage, those routes didn’t exist until I went up there and found a path through the rock that nobody else had found. That process of reading a wall — deciding where the route wants to go, understanding its rhythm, its logic — that feels creative in a very real sense. And then there’s the movement itself. Climbing at its best is fluid, almost choreographic. You can feel when a sequence is beautiful, when the body position is exactly right, when everything flows. I wouldn’t call myself an artist in any grand sense, but I do think there’s an aesthetic dimension to what we do that goes well beyond sport in the conventional meaning of the word.”

Caroline Ciavaldini: “I used to think that I had completely shut down my artistic side, or that perhaps I didn’t have one at all. There is this old preconception that you are either an athlete or an artist: brain or muscle. But with time, I’m realizing that there is indeed an art form in the way every climber chooses to climb a route. I would say that finding a method that is only yours is definitely something close to artistic behavior. Funnily enough, I don’t feel that way while I’m doing it, but when I look at a climber, the way they climb is obviously very personal: sometimes energetic, sometimes graceful… truly a personal interpretation of the rock. I feel this is especially pronounced in bouldering, but you can also find it in any route, from sport climbing to trad climbing and multipitch. Obviously, there is also art in route finding, when you find a blank piece of rock and interpret a line out of it. ”

Elias Iagnemma: “Yes, in a certain sense, although I always struggle a little to define myself as an artist. But I understand the meaning. For me, climbing, especially on rock, has an incredibly strong aesthetic component. When you find a beautiful, natural line, one that almost feels ‘right’ just by looking at it, there is something that goes beyond performance.The process of imagining the movements, building them, searching for the cleanest possible solution… It ‘s very close to a creative process. It isn’t only about reaching the top, but about how you get there. Sometimes you spend more time searching for the perfect gesture than actually completing the line. In those moments, I feel closer to an artist than to an athlete. Because you are creating something, even though that line was already there: you are simply trying to interpret it in the best possible way. ”

Speaking of routes, how do you approach the mental process of building a line, whether on rock or indoors? What does that first interaction with a route and its details look like through your eyes?

James Pearson: “The first interaction is mostly visual: standing back, reading the rock from a distance. You’re looking for features, obvious holds, the general direction of travel. But then you get closer and it becomes tactile and spatial. You’re touching the rock, feeling for friction, identifying where protection might go, working out body positions in your mind before you’ve even left the ground. On trad routes especially, there’s a whole additional layer: the mental calculation of consequence. Where would I fall from here? What does that mean? That risk awareness isn’t something you switch off: it’s woven into every step of how you build a line. Indoors is a different exercise entirely, more like a puzzle with a fixed set of pieces, but even there I find myself thinking about the movement qualities first: what does this sequence want to feel like, and how do you arrive at a hold in exactly the right way?”

Caroline Ciavaldini: “To find a line outdoors, it’s really quite simply about the features that catch your eye: an arête, a crack, holes that seem to connect. You start from there, and then you abseil down the route to see if it actually works. Sometimes you are the one choosing; sometimes it’s really the rock that dictates. Indoors, I’m far from being a specialist, but I simply start by choosing holds that I like.”

Elias Iagnemma: “It depends a lot on the type of line, but in general I always try to begin with observation. Looking closely, imagining the movements even before attempting them. When I am on a route or on a boulder, the mental work is constant. I try to break everything down into details: individual movements, positions, micro-adjustments. It’s a fairly obsessive process, but it’s also what fascinates me the most. At the beginning, you have an idea, often a very vague one. Then, attempt after attempt, that vision becomes increasingly clear. As if the line slowly reveals itself. And in the end, when you manage to put all the pieces together, it’s never by chance. It’s the result of many attempts, mistakes, and changes. For me, it’s a slow construction, almost artisanal. ”

We portrayed you during the Turin stop of the La Sportiva Climb Tour, a travelling event designed to celebrate the essence of climbing through its connection with different communities around the world. If you had to define that essence in your own words, how would you describe it? And how does the collective dimension fit into such an individual and deeply personal discipline?

James Pearson: “For me, climbing is more than just a sport. It’s more than just something we enjoy doing. It’s a way of life. Whether you’re into trad, sport, or bouldering, the people who are truly committed to climbing are what I’d call lifers: they live and breathe it, even though I know how much of a cliché that sounds. What’s happened over the last few years, though, is that two distinct climbing worlds have emerged. There’s the outdoor world that was always there, and then there’s a newer indoor world, where people in cities have found climbing as a fun, accessible activity: something to replace CrossFit or other city-based sports. That’s genuinely great. But the reality is that for a lot of those people, climbing never really leaves the walls of the gym, and when the next trend comes along, they move on. What we wanted to do with the Climb Tour is bridge that gap. Not to tell everyone that they have to go outside, because not all of them will connect with it, but to at least show them that another vision of climbing exists. To give them the opportunity to go on their first outdoor trip, to build their first real climbing relationships, and to open the door to everything this sport, this way of life, has to offer. Because so much of what defines climbing, and the climbers I know, is curiosity and excitement. The curiosity to go somewhere new and search for something you’ve never found before, the excitement of not quite knowing what you might discover. And those things, more than anywhere else, are found outside. Once that door opens, some of them will walk through it and never look back.”

Caroline Ciavaldini: “It is hard to find one single essence to describe the climbing world. We are really lucky to live within a sport that is, in itself, multiple. Sometimes there can be very few points in common between an indoor bouldering community and a single climber who likes to open routes outdoors, hanging on his rope for days, alone. But what is interesting is that you can start at one point within this community, and then explore every aspect of climbing. Nowadays, it’s common to start indoors, but from there you can move into sport climbing, then multipitch, ecc… You navigate between different smaller communities that still have a lot in common. That’s where climbing becomes more like a lifestyle, with priorities that, to be honest, are less focused on work and everyday life, and more focused on learning from yourself through climbing. From there, it’s naturally very easy to meet people and become part of a community, because you share the same interests with others.”

Elias Iagnemma: “For me, the essence of climbing is the search. The search for movement, for the line, but also for a certain inner feeling. It’s a very individual sport, because in the end it’s just you and the wall. At the same time, however, the collective dimension is fundamental. The people you share projects, days, and attempts with deeply influence the way you experience all of it. Even simply having someone who observes, who tries with you, who gives you feedback, can completely change the experience. It’s not a competition; it’s about sharing a journey. Events like the La Sportiva Climb Tour, in my opinion, serve exactly this purpose: to remind us that, even if the gesture is individual, the context is profoundly collective. ”

This event comes at a time when climbing is reaching an increasingly global audience. What idea of climbing do you want to convey, and what do you hope resonates with those discovering the sport today, also thanks to the work of brands like La Sportiva in bringing more people into this world?

James Pearson: “And that’s exactly where this question feels like a natural continuation of everything I just said. I want people to understand that climbing is enormous. It contains multitudes. The sport climbing you see at the Olympics is extraordinary and beautiful, but it’s only one small part of a much bigger world that includes trad climbing, bouldering, alpine routes, big walls, and mountains: all of it connected by the same fundamental drive. What I hope resonates with people discovering climbing now is the sense that there’s always something more to find in it, no matter where you start. I started on gritstone edges as a teenager, and it’s led me to incredible places all around the world. La Sportiva has been a big part of that journey for me: one of my most cherished partners. And I think the brand can play an even bigger role in the lives of more ordinary climbers, not just by producing some of the best climbing shoes in the world, but by genuinely telling the stories of what climbing is at its fullest. We’re in a moment where the audience is growing really fast, and what we do with that attention really matters.”

Caroline Ciavaldini: “I would really like newcomers to realize, and I think this is what La Sportiva is truly trying to do, that they are all welcome in the world of climbing. That they will not be judged for being beginners. That it’s totally okay to try something new, to step out of your comfort zone. For example, if you have only ever climbed indoors, of course, the day you start climbing outdoors, you are naturally going to be fairly bad. You will have to learn a lot, and that can potentially feel intimidating. You might even think that you will feel out of place. But I really believe that you will find people who will welcome you wholeheartedly.”

Elias Iagnemma: “I hope the idea that climbing is not only about performance or grades. That is one part of it, but it’s not the most important one. What truly matters to me is the process: the time you spend on a line, the sensations you experience, what you learn even when you don’t succeed. I would like those who are approaching climbing now to be able to see it as something personal, rather than something to constantly compare with others. And above all, to understand that you don’t need to be the strongest. Often, it’s more important to be consistent, to have patience, and to be willing to keep staying with something even when it’s not working. In the end, the greatest satisfactions come precisely from there.”