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GIOVANNI
NUTI
Giovanni Nuti was born in 1952 in Florence. He grew up in a
mixed household of old Florentine tradition and old southern
tradition, for his mother had come to Tuscany from Calabria.
Both the ancient, weather-beaten traditions of the Mediterranean
and the nobility and aesthetics of Tuscany are legible in everything
Giovanni says and does.
He
is of ancient stock. His mind and soul read into the ancient
to bring back to the present perceptions that wouldn’t
otherwise be clearly visible.
But
it is not simply the ancient and the noble that are blended
in Giovanni; he is also a blend of two academic worlds, science
and art. A medical physician and one of the more important researchers
of homeopathic medicine and holistic healing in Italy, Giovanni
brings his love of the arts and his aesthetic sense to healing
body and soul. As a composer, musician, sculptor and painter,
his compassion and love for humanity riddles through every bar
played, every brush stroke, every curve.
Writer,
philosopher, husband, father of two, brother, son, friend, doctor,
mistral, lover of life and lives, Giovanni Nuti’s art
explodes with meaning and deep-rooted journeys through many,
many worlds.
Il
dubbio dei dubbi
Ho
capito una cosa. Ho capito perché sento il lavoro di
Giovanni Nuti così fratello del mio. Perché non
è assertivo, è dubitativo. Tanto instancabile
è la sua ricerca di forme e materie modellate dalla natura,
quanto insolubile rimane il problema che ne deriva – di
cosa farne, dopo averle trovate. Tanta fatica per approdare
a una domanda, la stessa che mi pongo anch’io, da sempre:
esiste davvero la possibilità di aggiungere qualcosa
a ciò che esiste già? E anche la risposta è
la stessa: a volte sembra di sì, ma subito dopo invece
sembra di no. Questo è il motivo per cui io, da vent’anni,
divido il mio impegno tra lo sforzo creativo della scrittura
di finzione e quello non meno faticoso della rappresentazione
oggettiva delle cose che succedono; e questo, ho capito, è
il motivo per cui Giovanni, quando trova due pezzi di legno
sulla spiaggia, uno lo lascia com’è, e l’altro
lo abbraccia col gesso, lo trasforma in un vuoto e poi lo riempie
di lava incandescente, fino a trasformarlo in cristallo. Poi
li mette lì, li guarda, e il dubbio dei dubbi si rafforza.
Riusciremo mai a scioglierlo, fratello mio? Smetteremo mai di
cercare di farlo?
Sandro
Veronesi
One
thing I’ve come to understand; and I’ve come to
understand it because I feel Giovanni Nuti’s work so brethren
to my own; it is not assertive but doubting. As inexhaustible
as his search is for those shapes and matter that nature gives
forth, so is the unresolved question that they then present
– what to do with them once he’s found them. A lot
of effort to then face one question, the same that I have always
asked myself: can one really add something to that which already
exists? And the answer is also always the same: sometimes it
may seem so but immediately after, it seems not. For this reason,
for twenty years, I’ve divided my commitment between the
creative force of fiction and that, no less demanding, of objectively
recording actual events. And this, I’ve come to understand,
is why when Giovanni finds two pieces of driftwood on the beach,
he leaves one just as it is and embraces the other with plaster,
transforming it into emptiness to then fill with incandescent
lava until it turns into crystal. Then he places them side by
side and his doubt of all doubts strengthens. Will we ever resolve
the riddle, my brother? Will we ever stop trying to?
Sandro Veronesi
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