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The art of photographic experience is to fix a moment, to catch reality through taste perspectives and techniques used. Valentina’s works are framed into an inner realism vision, they refer to metaphysical visions because the moment fixed – alone – through the senses is not sufficient to explain the nature of the world.
Moments of life and interaction, where unaware characters move according the imaginary lines of a composition of chiaroscuro effects that lose and then assume new connotations and emotions. Daily souls show their secret side of life, which goes by us and presents, in compact geometries, the darkness of a closed and narrow – and sometimes absolute – black, searching for sublimation in the light. There are no winners, no losers; it is life, pleasant, painful, ironic, and very personal. A game of relations and persons who walk around open spaces and prove sensations of expressive freedom, ripped up by the solitude with which cities cover us.
It is the search for introspection, as if the focal foundered thus showing its most undefended and pure side, free from appearance tricks. A lucid, simple and direct dichotomy. What is impersonal and unknown becomes the mirror of the eye inspecting the essence of human existence. It finds out the right dimension in clean shots that show the sunshine of an event or a strong and severe black, which refer to raw – and almost dramatic – intimacies. This is a way that praises life, that respects the other, that shows flaws and qualities belonging to and shared by everybody.
Nientedipersonale is subjectivity: in its gentle and indiscreet, warm and feminine form. It is made of passions, uncertainties and fears that chase each other in human lives, thus becoming “personal” when shot. It is the transfert of the artist who uses the world substance to unveil secret dreams, borrowed from the unaware passer-by, hero and resolution of the mature and complex inner nature of Valentina.
“Beyond the simplicity of a gesture, lie hidden secrets of an entire existence”
There is a moment, personal and intimate, in which looking at yourself in the mirror is not just looking, but watching.
Watching yourself truly.
In that moment, everything else disappears: there is no place, no time, except for the time already passed and that you are analysing cold-heartedly.
Exactly in that moment, you stop looking at yourself in the mirror and you (have to) watch yourself.
There is only you, with what you are, what you have been, what you could or should or would have been.
And the box is opened.
The women I have met accepted to show me what their private and secret chest contains, which I tried not to spoil, since to tell.
Once, when I was a child, my mother, absorbed, told me: “There is an infinite world inside every woman. One day you’ll understand it.”
Now I’ve found it out, and this journey is for her.