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