This work, titled Spirits of the Earth, is only a tiny part of a much more complex and articulated project I have been developing for about two years. In it, spirits—appearing as projections in multiple forms—confront us with highly topical issues such as respect for nature, identity understood as tolerance of difference, and the artistic representation of the anthropomorphic figure.

In my practice, I have always explored the relationships between the rational and the imaginary, between science and mystery, and no less between the material world and the virtual one—not as a simple juxtaposition of elements, but rather as intertwined languages that reflect our human condition.

In the West, humanity inhabits a disenchanted world: gods and spirits no longer dwell among us, and a system dominated by consumism, rationalism, and reductionism often prevents us from grasping the complexity of our lived experience. Concepts such as dream, imagination, intuition, and emotion were for a long time banished from artistic and scientific discourse, confined instead to studies in psychology or cultural anthropology. We might say that we have lost the path of magical thinking—above all its philosophical substance, rich in endless projections of meaning, offering an oblique and unsettling vision of the world and an expressive potential that profoundly characterizes humankind and its many discoveries and achievements in every field.

Yet there exists a deep bond, an interdependence and interconnection between human beings and nature, for the human being is only a small part of it. The Genius loci, for example, was a natural entity tied to a specific place. The benevolence of this spirit had to be secured by earning its favor through respect for the site. Otherwise, neglect or desecration would anger the Genius, bringing misfortune. The worst fate would be to live in a place abandoned by spirits, stripped of the sacred—stripped, therefore, of meaning. In the space humans once shared with them, the invisible constantly mingled with visible matter.

Human beings inhabit the Earth, and doing so should translate into caring for it. This is because dwelling cannot mean mastering or subjugating the Earth, but rather saving it—that is, bringing Earth and sky, the divine and the mortal, back together, establishing links and relationships of kinship among these elements.