George Bernard Shaw liked to say that Life is not finding oneself, but ‘creating’ oneself, thereby implying the absolutely mysterious and abnormal, but also irremediably indispensable, effort to approach the greatest question of all, namely the Meaning of Existence in its fullness and totality; and it is no wonder that the artists, from the Sistine onwards but in reality even before, have always sought new forms of expression to elicit a quest to which philosophy has not yet been able to give, nor will it ever give, the definitive answer.
Anna Maria Tulli is no exception in this, since the Question is so compelling and spontaneous that it deserves a wordless thinking, where in the images can arise authentic sparks of Creational Light, as well as the shadows inherent in Creation itself.
Here, ‘Seeds of Life’ was born somewhat by chance: in attracting the gaze of Anna Maria, who declines the world through the lens of the camera, is not so much the greatness of the horizons, but the small closed world of the everyday things, especially fruit which, as is customary, is found in the kitchen.
Performing a surgical but also atavic gesture, which reminds us of primordial women, the artist first cuts a kiwi, opens a pomegranate, peels an orange: and then, since the artist’s gaze cannot judge, because her language is par excellence without words, she sees something that inside this fruit teases, attracts, recalls it, and there begins the cosmic journey.
Randomly, just as it must have happened long and long ago, when two primeval photon particles met suddenly, and according to the logic of quantum physics, were attracted each other to an ‘entanglement’, they began to create.
The entanglement: this great Mystery.
For scientists, this is a question with the capital Q: how come two particles, even millions of light years away, suddenly begin to communicate?
One turns, and here the other makes the same: they are in communication. One contracts, and the other as well.
They behave, the great Francesco Alberoni would say, like two lovers: and in fact to explain this strange ‘tangle’, this energetic entanglement that has all the air of a hug, scientists had to abandon the rational, and resort to sentiment- de facto particles are together, they are a couple, a dyad, they are married.
After this discovery of Light, scientists immediately run away: how can we present the concept of ‘Love’ to explain the Cosmos at the International Academy?
It is equivalent to give credits to Philosophy, to Religion: and also to Art, if we want to admit it. A defeat, a shame.
Centuries of honored Enlightenment, they do not flow into Science, but into Humanism: we speak of Alchemical Quintessence, and therefore we cannot go on, or Science is, in turn, ‘entangled’, bond together with its more abstract, more romantic metaphysical counterpart. We are close to admitting that ghosts exist, and in the most hard era of Materialism, this is frightening.
Thus, in photographing her pomegranate seeds with the usual technique that Anna Maria prefers, that of macro-magnification, a ghost suddenly emerges from a grain.
Anna Maria looks at him once, looks at him twice, examines the photos: there is no doubt, inside there is a dot of Light.
That Light, in her own way, speaks to her: fortunately, Anna Maria Tulli is not a scientist but an artist, so she does not need to take refuge behind the idea that ‘it is only an’ impression ‘: on the contrary, she accepts the challenge of the grain in the pomegranate, and it seems to her that its immensely enlarged interior hides not only the Light, but also a small beating Heart.
And then, she moves on to transform it.