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LiveSpark all Fired Up at Milan's Salone del Mobile

Hello, I'm your friendly local fire artist — blowing up things in my garage since 1999. I've been exploding bubbles filled with hydrogen for a bunch of years, and most recently started LiveSpark, a company dedicated to building miniature Bellagio-like fountains of fire suitable for living rooms of rich guys everywhere. I'm new to the hallowed pages of 944.com, but freshly back from Milan with a quick series of tips and tricks for the design-obsessed pasta lover in us all. The Salone Internazionale del Mobile design show was held this past week, so here's the skinny on what I learned when traveling overseas with flammables, plus how to win the respect of Italian supermodels.

The problem with shipping a computer-controlled fire product demo overseas is that it looks more like a bomb than a bomb does. The demo is a black plastic pelican case weighing 50 pounds and a few feet across. It’s innocuous enough on the outside, when the cover is removed it's a tangled maze of wires, copper pipes and electronic components. In order to get this through customs, one needs to remove the fuel and provide scads of documentation showing the case's actual purpose. Somehow, our case of fire managed to make it through. While I'm giddy about the possibility of real business in Milan, I'm not sure what that says about airport security.

A friend passed along an article from The New Yorker titled “Mi Chiamo Stan” (my name is Stan). It's a jokey Italian primer about a farm boy who meets a supermodel. On the second page, it takes you through "basic conversation" on how to buy tanks of propane. I took it to be a kind of palimpsest with secret meanings and predictions about the week to come, like the comic book in Heroes. I mean, how often do you go to Italy planning to buy propane, and the day before receive a two-page article describing how to haggle with someone in Italian over one or two propane canisters? Later, the article describes stalking a supermodel, landing in prison, then marrying her — hmm, foreshadowing?

Renting a motorcycle is always one of the first things I do in any foreign country. Provided there's some sunshine, motorcycles provide freedom from dank subway stations and expensive taxi rides. Plus, it's a great way to see the city, get around all manner of traffic and brag to friends about cheating death. Lucky for me, Milan is the most dangerous place to ride I've ever been. It's been told that in Tokyo motorcyclists ride on the opposite side of the road and are all members of the Japanese Yakuza — but at least they have a system of honor. In Italy, my BMW 650cc dual sport can't keep up with even the blonde powersuit scooterati girls. After midnight, in order to keep things interesting, the traffic signal lights change to blinking yellow. In both directions!

I bought a sim card at the airport in order to beat the stupid roaming charges. I brought along a cheap Nokia phone that I picked up in France, and slotted the card right in with my new +39 number, Italy's international code. Too bad I didn't bother unlocking my iPhone, because that Google Maps thing sure would have been helpful. I turned on data roaming for a bit just to see, and got a list of 27 turns to go 1.45 miles. Most of the directions go like this: Turn left at Largo Augusto. Turn left to stay on Largo Augusto. Turn right to stay on Largo Augusto. The thing is that you reach a Piazza with five to seven different roads branching off, and the other problem is they rename most streets every one or two blocks. The streets are a kind of history lesson, with street names being either famous Italians or important Italian events: Corso Cristoforo Colombo, Piazza Resistenza Partigiana, Piazza Ventiquattro Maggio, Viale Gabriele D'Annunzio — and that barely gets you out the door.

After a few days, I realized there are quite a few rules of the road, they just aren't written into the law — which is completely disregarded. For instance, it's fine to run red lights and stop signs, fine to pass the trams and cars on the "wrong" side of the road, fine to drive the "wrong" direction on a one-way street, fine to park on the sidewalk, fine to ride up steps, fine to go 120kph down narrow cobblestone roads — but riders must stop for pedestrians in a crosswalk, must not use a horn, and when arguing with the police, are free to yell, but not curse. The whole thing is pretty much like a baseball game with cars on one team and motorcycles on the other.

My buddies Gucci, Valentino, Dior, Prada, Versace, Damiani, Armani, Spiga, Miu Miu, Ferretti, Frette, Ferragamo were all in town. Well, even I couldn't resist getting some sunglasses at Gucci, when the sales girl flashed a smile. There's a beauty to Italian women that is sleek and devilish. There's a charming danger felt when talking to them, but progress is easily monitored, because there are quite obvious reactions to meager attempts at speaking their language. One trick is to speak very carefully and very slowly, admitting implicitly a novice standing, such as “Piacere d'averla conosciuta,” (it was a pleasure to have met you), or in my case “Il fuoco balla con la musica,” (the fire dances to music). Done right, it is almost universally met with a “Bravo!” and a mischievous smile that could turn you on in church.

The girl at Gucci most definitely fit the character, but as she led me down the stairs, she stumbled on her fashionable heels. She shrieked and strained to catch the railing, which was out of reach. Her legs had gotten crossed up, and she was tumbling downward and sideways towards the landing. I was just close enough behind to catch her by the shoulder and twist her towards the wall where we both crashed awkwardly. She said, “Thank you” and I reached into my pocket to hand her a button that read in Italian "No high heels" I'd gotten from a mock-protest sneaker ad campaign just outside. Then I winked and said “niente.” So I'm bummed now, because I've had my coolest ever “guy-moment” and it's all downhill from here. I think that counts as rescuing an Italian supermodel, so that New Yorker article was right after all.

Alberto Reghini is president of the Flash Model Management agency located on Via Tortona, the main drag of the large Zona Tortona collateral event during Salone del Mobile. The man is floppy-haired, wearing a blue sport coat and smart black leather shoes. He's turned “Hey, you're really hot. Do you wanna be a model?” into a successful business for 25 years. We partnered up to do a little party on Friday night where he provided the lounge and models, and I brought the fire and music. I set up the LiveSpark demo case, cranked up their sound system and gave the crowd what they apparently wanted — to clap and watch the flames jump up and down. Interspersed with the general Milano Friday night partygoers were real-life architects, interior designers, furniture craftsmen and product developers who were all interesting to talk to from a business standpoint. I knew there was some good excuse to have come here.

The Salone del Mobile is like an airport full of amazingly lavish furniture showrooms. Not an airplane hangar, but an entire airport. Each Costco-sized building (and there are seventeen of them) is parceled into what at trade shows would normally be called booths, but here they are built into lavish apartments, complete with say, a live violinist, some cocktails, hors d'oeuvres and, ahem, bedrooms (you know people get all rococo back there after hours). Roughly speaking, each hangar is divided into a particular style: classical, modern, eclectic, etc. Passing enough silvered fabric chairs and blue neon to make you lose your panini, and next door, startlingly original chairs that defy gravity yet provide springy wooden comfort. The size of the event defies description and is equal to the inspiration it provides. It makes you think: with so much creativity in the world, why would a person ever surround themselves with anything ordinary?

Brett Levine is president of LiveSpark, which builds music-reactive fire installations to fit your music and your mood. He lives in San Francsico where he makes large-scale sculptures with False Profit Labs, and is a software strategist for several Bay Area startup companies. To find out more, visit www.livesparkfire.com and www.falseprofitlabs.com

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