Some time ago I thought I could recognize the truest 'place' of Giuliano Giuliani's sculpture as that of transparency, of the gap, of absence; of the renunciation of matter understood as encumbrance, as weight, as a self-referential demon; and its assumption to the opposite - as a trace, breath, memory: to touch, perhaps, the mystery. Not having familiarity with the work of Giorgio Cutini. But now that his work and that of Giuliani are presented side by side, I think I can repeat for Cutini, almost identical, many of those words. Memory, for example, is certainly a way of perceiving reality to which Cutini would not give up lightly: memory understood not as a viaticum to a generic distance from today, but as an expansion of the time in which reality makes itself present to the gaze, as an instant that prolongs the perception of reality, which makes the trace that an event has impressed on our existence readable.
Through that impression - as Toti Scialoja has taught, reversing the attimality of action painting in Bergsonian duration - the reality, or rather "event" of Heidegger, comes to dig into our consciousness, and likewise in the world, more profoundly than make a tautological and flagrant mimesis The photograph of Cutini, thus renouncing the immediate mimesis of the existent, has intended to capture that further duration which hides behind the mirror - and sometimes illusory - evidence of reality, and which prolongs its echo, transfigured, in a slower and more secret time, so his side for a photograph "devoid of the obligations of the path of figurative representation", however, stands next to life, indeed as a "cry of resolution to life", to that whole indistricato of existing and of thought (or, as he writes, to that undivided entity made together of "emotion and intellect") that constitutes the womb and the destiny of man. Likewise Giuliani has, in his more than thirty years of work, sought in the hiding and in the secret of his material of choice, travertine, his reality. Hidden in the gaps, in the erosions, in the wounds of the travertine, her way to the truth Giuliani has finally discovered it nestled in a place full of shade, from which every proud certainty is banned; and in which precipitates, as in a risky and anxiety-riddled abyss, every systematic, foreshadowed certainty. And his figures will have the lightness of the dance, and the uncertain course of the wave, which seeks its way among the currents. Fluctuates, uncertain of their own destiny, abandoned at their own secret rhythm, they open up and stop in loops and tangles, in knots and bows, in folds and new impulses. Both touched by a melancholy that is not simple 'out of focus' of the existing, but truly neoclassical attitude, and awareness of a hopelessly far away good, the works of Giuliani and Cutini appear to me - today at least they are represented side by side - witnesses twins of adherence to life beyond the forms we recognize on a daily basis; witnesses, however, of what is hidden in the deepest furrow of reality.