Inside Toiletpaper’s Twisted World With Paolo Ferrari

Fotografiska Museum is currently showcasing ToiletFotoPaperGrafiska, an interactive exhibition exploring the colourful and surreal world of TOILETPAPER magazine. Founded in 2010 by artist Maurizio Cattelan — who you might know for his divisive 2019 work Comedian — and fashion photographer Pierpaolo Ferrari, TOILETPAPER emerged as a playful, provocative response to the conservative art world. Known for its bold, absurd visuals and sharp social satire, the magazine blends elements of both advertising and pop culture. We sat down with Pierpaolo Ferrari to dive deeper into the unique universe he has created alongside Cattelan.

GP: Let’s begin with the exhibition title: ToiletFotoPaperGrafiska. It’s playful, chaotic, and intentionally excessive — much like TOILETPAPER itself. How did you come up with the name, and what kind of expectations or emotions do you want to trigger just from hearing it?

PF: We wanted a title that reflected the playful and excessive spirit of TOILETPAPER — and ToiletFotoPaperGrafiska does just that. This exhibition is special because, for the first time, we’re focusing on photography itself, rather than printing images on objects or on the wall like wallpaper. Since Fotografiska is a major photography institution, it felt like the perfect place to highlight this shift. The name also plays on that connection, blending our identity with the museum’s. Also, it’s funny that the name is almost unpronounceable!

GP: TOILETPAPER has always challenged conventions through its mix of commercial aesthetics, satire, and surrealism. How does ToiletFotoPaperGrafiska evolve or reactivate that rebellion — especially within the context of Berlin’s art scene?

PF: Berlin has a unique energy. It’s rooted in its people, in their search for identity, and in a spirit of creative rebellion. That’s why ToiletFotoPaperGrafiska feels so at home here. For us, this isn’t just an exhibition: it’s an ongoing dialogue with the city. We started this journey with our first show at Fotografiska in Stockholm, and it was immediately clear how different the atmosphere is. Berlin’s raw, youthful intensity aligns perfectly with TOILETPAPER’s DNA. There’s a strong sense of youth identity here, shaped by a deep, ongoing exploration of the self.

GP: So in that sense, the city and the exhibition sort of mirror each other. But inside the space — among the photos, objects, installations — what role do you imagine for the viewer? 

PF: It’s not about interaction in the traditional sense, but it’s about being yourself. The viewer becomes the protagonist, because our images often leave room for interpretation. We designed the exhibition to reflect that: layered, disorienting, immersive. You start in the clouds, literally, to shake your expectations and step into a dream-like space. We never approach our work as traditional art: there’s no frame, no fixed format.

GP: Despite your chaos, your aesthetic remains so controlled. In a world racing toward AI and digital trickery, what makes the analog, handcrafted process so vital for you?

PF: One reason we keep creating everything by hand is because, with AI advancing, people in the future might see our glossy, precise images differently—maybe not as the unique aesthetic we intended. Our style has become very consistent, even beyond TOILETPAPER. For us, making everything physically is about the joy of being on set – the fun and freedom missing in our traditional careers. For us, TOILETPAPER started almost as an escape: Maurizio coming from the art world, and me from fashion and advertising. We both come from worlds judged by curators and collectors, which can be stressful. TOILETPAPER is like a cure, a headache pill. 

Humour has always played a central role for us. Even the title TOILETPAPER was chosen deliberately to undermine the project before it could be taken too seriously. It was a kind of self-sabotage from the start, in the best way!

GP: Speaking of humor and provocation—you and Maurizio are masters at sparking strong, often polarizing reactions. But is that provocation calculated, or is it more instinctive?

PF: We use provocation as a way to make people really look at things. It’s like when you walk down the same street every day — you usually just stare straight ahead. But if one day you look up, you notice things you’ve never seen before. That’s what we try to do with our images: push viewers out of their usual habits so they start noticing and thinking differently.

But at the same time, it’s not random. Especially Maurizio – he has a sharp sense of what works and what doesn’t. We don’t keep every image we produce: if something doesn’t have that spark, we throw it away. 

GP: Some pieces, like Maurizio’s personal work, get really strong reactions. When a piece divides opinion so sharply, do you ever feel personally affected by the backlash?

PF: For Maurizio, his work is deeply personal — it’s almost like an extension of his own psyche. So I think when people react strongly, it can hit closer to home for him. For me, it’s different. I have more distance. I enjoy watching how people respond, and I like to think that when I create a TOILETPAPER image, it’s really just the beginning of something for someone else. It’s made to be out in the world, not necessarily about me. 

To be honest, I find rejection more interesting than acceptance. If an image is rejected — and I still believe in it — that usually means I’ve touched something unexpected or unfamiliar.

GP: That openness to failure probably explains why TOILETPAPER resonates across so many disciplines without being locked into any one of them. Would you say that ambiguity is part of the point?

PF: Totally. And that’s why we borrow the language of those fields — we use their codes, their aesthetics — but not to create something within that discipline. We’re not trying to make a fashion object, or a political statement per se. We just use those elements as tools. In the end, the image works best when it’s accessible to everyone, not just the experts.

See ToiletFotoPaperGrafiska at Fotografiska Berlin until August 31 2025.

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