The Convivium
I’m building something called The Convivium.
In ancient Rome the convivium was a kind of extended dinner party, but the emphasis was on exploration, debate and companionship rather than just eating together. The convivium was a space where food, wine, friendship, philosophy, art and conversation coalesced. It was how Romans expressed the art of living well together.
I’ve been fascinated with the idea of a cultural feast for all the senses for a long time.
Last year I gathered twelve people together at a 16th Century coaching inn in Sussex for a couple of days, and we told our stories and pondered what we should be paying attention to. The second edition is in Perthshire in Scotland in June later this year.
The Convivium is what comes next. The inaugural gathering for 8 people is at the Stirling Prize winning Astley Castle in Warwickshire in July 2026.
In so many different fields, there are vanishingly few spaces left that allow us to be all we really are, in the company of others, without performance. To just be ordinary. To leave the trapped feeling that prevails inside our increasingly transactional lives, to rediscover the bravery and creative edge of childhood or early career, to just trust that there is no expectation of us.
Spaces where we can talk openly and honestly, if we want to, about what we’re wrestling with, a space to find an answer to the question “who am I without the scoreboard” and with no need to keep a game face on, are few and far between.
The Convivium isn’t about time with the ‘like-minded’ it’s about being with those who might just change our perspectives precisely because they see things differently. My dad taught me how important that is.
He used to manage a restaurant in Mayfair called The Tiberio. It was one of those iconic old school Italians that don’t exist anymore. The sort where the waiters used to smoke endless cigarettes while they played scopa out the back between service. It was a restaurant where you could have whatever you wanted regardless of whether it was on the menu. Dad made sure of that.
Dad was faithfully egalitarian. He treated everybody like royalty, whether it was actual royalty, Hollywood royalty like Frank Sinatra, or local regulars. His work was done in a uniquely playful, Neapolitan way. He spent his whole career in the convivium. He paid close attention and had a knack of seeing exactly what mattered. The Convivium can’t promise Frank Sinatra in person, but it can promise all the care and attention my dad used to give him.
On Being Present
So important, so rare these days.
Dr Iain McGilchrist showed us quite beautifully, that how we choose to direct our attention is how we experience the world. I think the step beyond that is becoming critically important - how we truly experience the present moment is how we spend our lives. The more we find true presence in each moment, the more fulfilled a life we lead.
The Convivium Dinner Series starts on March 10th. 10 people each who want to explore the space where creativity, art, leadership, business and not-knowing all cohere. To be absolutely present for an evening, no performance required, no scorecard.
Here we are thirty-five years after my dad finished up at The Tiberio, and my sense that sharing convivial spaces with people we might not know is more important than ever.
That’s what these dinners are about.
The Details:
Dinner 1: 10th March 2026, 18:30-23:30 hrs
Leoni Private Dining Room, Quo Vadis, Soho
10 guests, one host, one artist opening the evening and keeping the beat
Exceptional menu, good wine, deep conversation
£295 per person
No phones. No recordings. No social media posting. What happens in the room stays in the room. I’ll take one photograph to share with everyone afterwards.
If you’d like to attend, please email me asap at carlo@carlonavato.com. The first 10 confirmations secure a place.
If you can’t maker the dinner but you’d like to know more about the gatherings in Scotland, Warwickshire, or the one planned for Brownsea Island in October, please let me know.
I look forward to meeting you in The Convivium.




Small group work is the antidote to scaled mediocrity. It has never been more important; go Carlo!
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