Anna Maria Tulli - Centimetro x centimetro - pt.2

The pomegranate. What a strange fruit! It is traditionally the symbol of Hades, the God of the Deads: how can Hades therefore suggest Life? If we were in the Hellenistic Greece of the Myth, Plato would perhaps suggest that it is precisely in the Valley of Lethe, that is, in the world of the Underworld of Hades, and in front of the Virgin Lachesis, that the Hero Er discovers how much the Soul - the dot of Light in the Pomegranate – can be Immortal. And if the Soul is Immortal, perhaps it can reincarnate, and become a New Heart.
The Heart.
This Mysterious Organ that pumps blood and energy into the body, this tireless, solid, fragile muscle that knows how to feel emotions: wasn’t Hades, God of Death, in love with the Goddess of Life, Persephone?
And here we are at our two particles distant Light years in the Cosmos: irreparably separated by an unappealable Destiny, they do not give up, they want to approach each other, even forcing this Destiny: and they create Life.
Inside the pomegranate bean a human heart is born, which becomes a Fetus, a Child.
The writer of this piece has no problem admitting that she cried in front of this image that Anna Maria presents today as the humble and simple beginning of a complex and elevated Research: the innocence and goodness of that pomegranate grain arouses in those who observe a so intense empathy - a natural ‘entanglement’ - that only a very hard heart cannot grasp. Here, perhaps a scientist would run away from this precisely because the emotion is too strong to be able to bear it with the dignity required from a scientist: fortunately an art critic is allowed to cry.
From this little New Born, this New Heart of Pulsing Light wrapped in a universe of stars, however, the painful thinking immediately develops in the Artist: Anna Maria, returning from her ‘Prague Meetings’ in which she had dealt with the theme of drawings made by the Children of the Terezin camp, enveloping the pain of condemnation with the sweetness through ‘boxes’ of dreams, now is captured by the grand and terrible thought of biogenetics.
Obtaining healthy organs for sick people from small creatures ‘produced’ for this purpose as if they were consumer goods.
In America, we have witnessed powerless and outraged to laws that allow abortions even in the last month. We have seen the scandal of babies cut off from the womb to use them as donors of new organs to people at the end of their existence, as if this is the only possible life a person can have, and there is no immortal soul that can go back to dress a new body.
And here the observer’s gaze shifts to the majestic olive tree trunks that during one of her travels, Anna Maria decided to eternalize: ancient, with bark marked as old leather or wrinkled skin, struck by the vibrant plasma of lightning bolt, a pure mysterious energy arrived from Above according to unfathomable projects, a living and true expression of those Cosmic Forces in front of which already the Gothic Literature of a Byron and the Romantic Art of a Friedrich trembled for their Unpredictable Eternity, killed in their vegetative cycle perhaps in a night of serenity or storm not too strong, imposing in their dead fixity, these trees remind us of those prehistoric animals extinct long time ago, which gave birth to the legends of dragons and knights. The Olive Tree.