Animalia: The Breath of Life

It all begins with an ancient, dense word that we have forgotten how to truly listen to: Animalia. In classical Latin this term did not simply mean the “beast” as opposed to man. Its root is Anima: breath, wind, the vital breath. Animalis is, by definition, “that which is endowed with a soul”.

I chose to call this project Animalia in order to give back etymological and spiritual dignity to every creature I meet. The Romans, in naming them so, implicitly acknowledged a truth that modernity has often neglected: there are no living objects, there are animate subjects. There is a kinship of destiny, a shared breath that runs through every form of life.

In this gallery you will not find mere zoological records, but portraits of souls. My aim is to seek that pneuma, that vital spark which shines with the same intensity at every scale.

From the microcosm to the macrocosm. Life has no hierarchies, only different dimensions. The visual journey of Animalia begins with the invisible. I turned my lens toward the microscopic beings of the salt pans, primordial creatures that inhabit extreme waters, where life becomes resistance and colour. There, in a drop of water, pulses the same desire to exist that moves the giants of the earth.

From water I move to earth and air, observing the world of insects, perfect feats of biological engineering, all the way to the deep gaze of an Alpine ibex of the Orobie. Whether it is the geometry of a wing or the muscular power of a mammal, the light that strikes these forms always reveals the same, identical sacredness.

To look at these photographs is to see ourselves reflected. It means recognising that the “vital breath” we call the soul is not ours alone, but a gift spread widely, one that binds us inextricably to everything that breathes, swims, flies or crawls on this world.

Welcome to Animalia.