The "presepi" or nativity scenes made by Valentinis can be described as translations into miniaturized images of the Nativity story. They are presented as fantastic landscapes, which are made from the combination of natural elements: roots, barks, mushrooms, lichens and stone fragments. Some of them are enclosed in display cases, in the way of ancient portable altars or reliquaries; others are arranged freely on wooden bases.
His "presepi" fall into two categories. The first one is where the landscape element prevails, while in the second one the architectural element dominates. In the “landscaping” "presepi" it is the assembling of the natural elements at the beginning which indicates how to organise the materials. The sensibility of the artist here is more predominant than the design itself.
In the "architectural" "presepi" the design plays a more important role and the materials used are completely artificial.
Even the expanded polystyrene once covered seems to evoke feelings which seemed unthinkable.
In both types of “presepi”, an erratic and sometimes disturbing morphology seems to occur. If you were to exthend this metaphor to the architecture of the “presepi”, you would say that there is an unstable equilibrium present in the shapes of the buildings in the villages. However at the end an atmosphere of peace prevail, and the nocturnal silence of the snowy fields recalls feelings of recollection and invites you to pause from the worries of your every day life.
The figurines are spread in large numbers in the landscapes of both "presepi". Countless positions, attitudes, cloths. They don’t have the perfection of the Neapolitan craftsmanship. But their imperfections, perhaps reveal a more secret evocative force.
You do not find the nativity in a privileged place in the "presepi" of Valentinis. It never appears in the foreground. It sits on the side. You must look for it, as many of those, who have set out on a journey, do, often movitated by other means. It is not true that everyone stops at its threshold, most people proceed to its margins and get stuck in the deep snow, in the frost or get lost in the darkness of the night. Many will never approach the manger. Some will fall exhausted at the feet of a large leafless tree. Others will just continue breathless to meet up, to climb but they will ultimatly get lost. Nevertheless the comet star shines, and there are Angels in the sky, in the darkness of the snowy night.
It might seem an easy, perhaps futile, exercise in psychology, that of looking, in the multitude for an "alter ego" in whom we can recognise ourselves. We wander, stumble, slip, feel cold, are thirsty and hungry like many, while we approach the cave, and our breath grows deeper. Perhaps ancient words will come back, almost forgotten. It is like waiting for something to happen from a very distant past: we fear somehow the feeling of delight at the sight of it.
