Pascal Weidmann

Swiss artist and environmental science student whose work bridges the worlds of agriculture, ecology, and visual arts. Raised on a farm, his creative practice emerges from a deep familiarity with land, soil, and cycles of cultivation. His Fertilizer Paintings, developed using sustainable agricultural minerals such as chalk, algae, and trace nutrients, reflect a layered and holistic view of landscapes - one shaped by permaculture, forestry, and systems thinking. Weidmann’s work challenges the monocultural lens through which we often view nature, proposing instead a rich, hybrid relationship with the land that respects both ancestral knowledge and contemporary ecological urgency.

In conversation with Pascal Weidmann during the exhibition Oltre la pietra at Castelgrande, Bellinzona.

What drives you in your practice?

What drives my artistic work comes from somewhere deep inside; it’s like an urge. I grew up on a farm, and now I study environmental sciences. So I’ve always found myself combining these disciplines, working with my hands and my mind, intuitively experimenting with materials, both in art and in farming. For me, creating is almost a necessity. It gives me a sense of completeness.
There are intellectual questions I’m trying to understand, practical, agricultural ones too, like how we as humans relate to the land, the environment, the plants and animals around us. How can we do this without destroying everything? How do we engage with these systems in sustainable, respectful ways? A lot of answers exist in theory, but the challenge is in doing. My way of doing things starts by going inward and asking myself: What does this mean? How can I translate my ideas of what the landscape should look like and how it should be treated into something that others can connect with? Maybe even feel something from it. I think that’s the role of the artist: to be themselves and to find what of themselves is relevant to the society around them.
Since I grew up on a farm, I naturally draw from that background. I take my materials, my stories, and intuitively try to distill their essence into the work. It always depends on how I feel in the moment, but I wouldn’t say emotion is the main driver. It's more about a larger vision, hope, maybe. I want people to reconnect with the places they come from. And by that, I don’t mean only green, idyllic nature. Everyone eats, and everyone relies on nutrition that comes from the land. It’s sad how many people have never stood in a field, never grown potatoes or picked their own strawberries, never watched a plant grow, or die. That disconnect is huge. So I’m thinking about how we can approach agriculture differently. Right now, it's often high-production monoculture, using excessive water and chemicals, and it’s incredibly hard on the farmers, too. They work long hours, often without fair compensation or support. I believe if people got more involved, even just a few days a year, to help out, grow food, cut the grass, store it, they'd develop an appreciation. Supporting local farmers would not only ease their burden but could make sustainable farming more feasible.

Tell us about the project you exhibited at Oltre la pietra

In the paintings I’m showing at Matazz, I’m imagining what these landscapes could look like: wild, overgrown, mixed. No neat, uniform fields, but rather chaotic, rich with diversity. You might find vegetables, berries, and apple trees all together. You have to go closer, interact with the scene. The layers in the paintings reflect this complexity. Humans tend to over-control landscapes, we want things to be clean and orderly. But nature doesn’t work like that. I use ecological fertilizers and materials like copper, chalk, and micronutrients in my paintings. These are based on traditional farming knowledge from Switzerland, natural substances used to strengthen plants against disease. They require far less input than standard agricultural chemicals, so they’re more sustainable. Interestingly, some of the same materials were used in Renaissance painting. So there’s a historical resonance in making my own colors from these materials; it’s a way of working with what’s around me, of honoring both old knowledge and contemporary needs.
These are the first paintings I’ve made. I’m only recently working as a painter, and I’ve spent nearly a year developing this new body of work. I’ve enjoyed the process so much and feel really happy to be showing them here in such a beautiful place, with such kind people.