Among the many masters of Italian design, Achille Castiglioni was undoubtedly the one who most consistently approached his work with a method grounded in discovery, curiosity, fun, and irony—without ever compromising the rationality of thought, the functionality of the object, or the effectiveness of an action. On the contrary, this playful attitude amplified the results, making them not only effective but also desirable and memorable.

Others have embraced this approach both personally and professionally—Bruno Munari, the most refined, with his pedagogical workshops, and Enzo Mari, more pragmatic, with his toy designs and children’s books. But none quite like Castiglioni (often working alongside his brothers): every day, in almost every project, he quite literally played at being a designer.

Play, by definition, is a free activity without hidden agendas or practical purposes—its aim is purely the joy of recreation, whether alone or shared. Yet it also has formative consequences, nurturing both manual dexterity and intellectual growth. In Homo Ludens (1938), Huizinga defined play as the precultural foundation of every civilization’s social structures.
In English, to play also means to act, to put into motion, to activate something—always with a sense of lightness and joy. In Italian, as in French (jeu), the word for game contains the pronoun “I”, a reminder that play is always personal. It begins and ends with the self, serving as a tool for children to become adults—and for adults to become children again. A kind of time machine we too often underestimate.

Etymologically, the word gioco (game) is also related to gettare (to throw), from the root jak, as in iactare—a connection that ties deeply into the word progetto (project).

So yes, playing is a bit like designing.Design, after all, is a continuous exercise in formulating hypotheses and testing them to arrive at a solution. There are no strict rules—just a framework for managing intuition. Every creative detour is welcome, as it can lead to unexpected and fascinating discoveries within the logic of the process.

With this premise, the Achille Castiglioni Foundation has set out to explore the theme of play and its deep connections to the work of design. Each space within what was once his creative playground investigates a different facet of this relationship.

Upon entering, visitors are greeted by a tribute from one of the most renowned illustrators working today, Carlo Stanga. His reinterpretation of Castiglioni’s objects on stage-like panels evokes a puppet theatre, populated with joyful, playful characters.
In this wonderland—more Wunderkammer than ever—the first room houses a “caravanserai” bursting with curious and vibrant toys. It’s a vast collection started by Achille and continued by his children, Giovanna and Carlo. There are kaleidoscopes, sonic mechanisms, flying objects, and clever instruments that flirt with amusement while revealing typological and interactive design intelligence. Many of them invite touch—and play.

Hidden inside the belly of this wheeled volume is a surprising collection of spinning tops—an ancient game as simple in gesture as it is complex in execution. These small, whirling marvels still captivate adults, offering a portal to the distant past or the imagined future.

In the so-called “prototype room,” typically the starting point for storytelling about design, visitors find real-life works created by the Castiglioni brothers that were inspired by playful instincts: changes in scale, accumulation, disorientation, and movement. These include installations for Milan’s trade fair and industrial design objects that showcase the poetic details and approach that define the Castiglioni method.

Visitors pass through the “mirror room”—perhaps the most emblematic of the studio for its disorienting visual tricks and games of illusion. Over the decades, it also became home to a series of display cases filled with anonymous, technical, and inventive objects—many of them gadgets and toys—gathered over a passionate lifetime. For the first time, these items have been removed from their chaotic containers and displayed in a carefully curated “cosmos,” offering insight into Castiglioni’s conceptual world.

Finally, in the meeting room, visitors encounter Achille’s “playmates”—works by designers and close friends like Munari, Mari, Aoi and Max Huber, and Charles and Ray Eames. These were people who, in both life and work, embraced a childlike spirit—sometimes implicitly, sometimes as a clear guiding principle.

Visiting this exhibition—enriched with personal photographs and family anecdotes that act as a manifesto of a life and profession admired by many—draws visitors into a parallel universe where it’s easy to slip back in time. Here, everyone reconnects with the games of their past, with memories that helped shape their own joyful growth.

Reserve your spot and prepare to learn how to play with both intelligence and light-heartedness. Follow Achille’s timeless advice: “Don’t take yourself too seriously.”

Opening image: Radio Fuoriscala ready to be hung outside the Triennale in Milan for the 15th National Radio Exhibition in 1948. Project by A.e P.G. Castiglioni. Courtesy Fondazione Achille Castiglioni