“The Engadin is a living cultural landscape.”

Mathis Neuhaus: What does commitment and responsibility to culture mean to you in the context of the Engadin?
Diana Segantini: I believe culture needs places that are willing to take responsibility. Not every institution has to do this, but those who have the means also have the opportunity to enable special projects. What matters is not the budget alone. It is vision, curiosity, and an understanding of what culture can mean for a place.

In the Engadin, this sense of responsibility has a long history. There is a strong cultural legacy, which needs to be carried forward actively. Many people have resources, but far fewer are willing to invest them thoughtfully, with openness and trust.

You grew up only a few minutes from St. Moritz.
I was born and raised in the Engadin and had the great fortune of growing up in an artist’s house, the Casa Segantini in Maloja. It is only ten minutes from St. Moritz, yet it feels like a different world. Far enough from the village to be immersed in nature, in silence, in weather, in space.

Maloja is a demanding place. The climate is rough, it is colder than elsewhere in the valley, and it sits at the very top of the Engadin. I do not think it was a coincidence that my great-grandfather, Giovanni Segantini, chose to settle there. It is a place that asks something of you. It sharpens your senses.

There is also something deeply philosophical about Maloja. The source of the river Inn begins there and flows towards three different seas. Nature is not a backdrop in this landscape. It is an active force. You see this in Giovanni Segantini’s work, but you also experience it in everyday life.

I grew up in a very open household. My mother is Norwegian, my father Italian. Different languages, cultures and beliefs were always present. At the same time, Maloja is an isolated place, a combination which shaped me early on. You learn early that growing up in Maloja also means having to leave it.

I went to school in Zuoz, where local life and international perspectives naturally came together. Later, I spent many years abroad. When I returned to the Engadin, I did so with a philosophy that still guides me today: roots and wings. To be deeply rooted in your identity, your culture and your landscape, while remaining free enough to move, and to return again.

St. Moritz plays an important role in that balance. It offers energy and an international rhythm. But my home has always remained in Maloja. For me, the combination of a quiet life in nature and the openness of St. Moritz is, amongst other things, what makes the Engadin such a unique place.

When people speak about visionary artists in the Engadin, Giovanni Segantini inevitably comes up. What makes his work still relevant today?
He was a pioneer of light and perception. He understood this landscape in a very profound way. The air, the altitude, the clarity of the valley all played a role in his work. Light behaves differently here. It changes how you see the world.

One project that still moves me deeply is the large Engadin panorama he planned for the Universal Exhibition in Paris in 1900. He wanted to bring the Engadin to Paris and present it as a modern and visionary landscape. He died one year before the exhibition, and the project was never realised. Yet the idea itself was extraordinary. It was an early example of a cultural and touristic vision coming together, the project was financially supported by the city of St. Moritz.

Segantini did not work in isolation. He inspired a whole generation of artists, including Giovanni Giacometti. Through these relationships, you can trace a continuity of artistic thinking in the Engadin that reaches far into the present.

After the pandemic, many people looked at Segantini’s work with new eyes. Paintings that were once dismissed as nostalgic suddenly felt essential again. They speak about nature, fragility, belonging and time. These are not historical concerns. They remain deeply contemporary.

Why do you think the Engadin continues to attract artists and thinkers today?
Because it offers intensity and retreat at the same time. You are exposed to beauty, but also to solitude. That combination creates focus. Many people leave, but many also return eventually. The valley has a way of calling you back.

The Engadin is not frozen in history. It is a living cultural landscape, shaped by those who came before and by those who are still working here today. That continuity becomes tangible when you spend time here.

Is there something you would recommend to visitors who want to experience the Engadin beyond its centre?
If there is one thing I would recommend to anyone spending time in the Engadin, it is to leave the centre from time to time. St. Moritz is an important meeting point, but much of the valley’s character reveals itself elsewhere.

I would also encourage people to explore the smaller cultural institutions. Beyond the well-known museums, there are many lesser-known places that carry depth. They tell stories of everyday life, craftsmanship and local history, and they offer an intimate way of engaging with the region.

The Engadin is not a single place with a single identity. Upper and Lower Engadin have very different atmospheres, mentalities and traditions.