Scratching the surface: how Giovanni Guida uses century-old grattage technique to expose the sacred and the unseen

Guida grew up steeped in the sacred imagery of Neapolitan churches, tracing the contours of frescoes and altarpieces with his eyes long before he touched a canvas. He admired the luminous violence of Caravaggio, the divine geometry of Masaccio, whose Crucifixion in Pisa left an indelible mark on his imagination. On top of influencing his aesthetic, these early encounters with Christian iconography deepened his understanding of art as a spiritual vocation.

That faith marks his work. He describes his tactile, subtractive method as a meditation on the tearing of the temple veil in Jerusalem at the moment of Christ’s death—an act that, for Guida, becomes “a metaphor for unveiling the sacred,” revealing what lies beyond the divide between the human and the divine.

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In his hands, grattage becomes a physical manifestation of the “veil of Maya”—the Hindu philosophical concept, later embraced by German philosopher Schopenhauer, that describes the illusory nature of perceived reality. Each scrape of the painted surface enacts an ancient spiritual practice of revealing truth hidden beneath appearances. 

His canvases shimmer with lapis lazuli blue, that otherworldly pigment once more valuable than gold, creating what he describes as “chromatic abysses that transcend the tangible.”

The trajectory that led Guida to this synthesis of Eastern philosophy and Western artistic technique traces an unlikely path. After graduating with honours from Naples’ Academy of Fine Arts, he might have followed conventional routes. His studio practice became increasingly contemplative, each session a form of meditation where the artist serves not as creator but as witness to what emerges.

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In 2015, Filipino Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle, then archbishop of Manila, exhibited Guida’s painting Caesarius Diaconus, icon of Caesarius of Terracina, tutelary saint of Roman emperors, in the Baptistery Chapel of Manila Cathedral, where it held court among centuries of devotional art. The Cardinal saw in Guida’s grattage technique a contemporary expression of mystical tradition, a way of making visible the invisible through patient, reverential removal rather than additions.

The work has been displayed in major museums in the world: from Manila to Berlin’s Kunstgewerbemuseum, Barcelona’s Museu Frederic Marès, Lisbon’s Museu de São Roque, ultimately reaching Jerusalem’s Terra Sancta Museum.

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Grattage, in Guida’s interpretation, becomes autobiography written in reverse. Instead of adding layers of experience, he excavates them, trusting that meaning will emerge from the process itself. He describes his role with Buddhist-like detachment: “The artist is simply the spectator, the one who contemplates the making of his own work.” This isn't false modesty but genuine philosophical commitment to what he calls “automatic seeing”—allowing the unconscious to guide conscious creation.

The materials he chooses carry their own spiritual weight. Silver leaf evokes “the luminous elegance of goldsmithing,” while gold leaf embodies “the essence of metaphysical light.”

As 2025 marks grattage’s centennial, Guida stands as the technique’s most significant contemporary interpreter. Ernst discovered grattage by accident, observing patterns made by friction on wood. Guida has transformed it into intention, each scraping away of paint a deliberate act of faith that something meaningful lies beneath.

In doing so, he offers a model for artistic practice that is simultaneously ancient and contemporary, recognising creation and destruction as complementary forces in the human quest to understand what remains hidden beneath the surface of our daily experience.

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