The Joshua Tree is the U2 reference album of our youth: U2 promised us they would become the biggest band on the planet and with The Joshua Tree they succeeded, capturing the imagination of millions of people scattered in space and time.
In 2014, the album was awarded and defined “culturally, historically and aesthetically significant” work by the US Congress Library, which with its approximately 29 million books catalogued in 470 languages and over 58 million manuscripts and 1 million US Government publications is considered one of the largest cultural institutions in the world, and selected for preservation in the National Recording Registry.
The Joshua Tree is a symbol: it is the minimal element that has endured the conflict between nature and civilization, which is at the end of the desert, the physical desert, the American one depicted in Anton Corbjin’s shootings, but also that inner desert, the metaphor of a spiritual shortage, which, at least once in life, each one of us has gone through. It looks lonely, sad, rigorous, but while sinking its roots in a broad, sour, dusty soil, it has become even more rugged because it has overtaken everything. Weather, relational drought and even nothing.
We walked in and went out cyclically, experiencing the moment giving new shapes to old needs, making our way by opening the spirit to the great ideals and living in search of that promised land, had it simply been a goal to reach.
It is the symbol of the Ideal that we never abandoned: a dream that comes true, a way to go, a hope to maintain, the infinity to which it is to strive.
Someone or something have tried to eradicate it, destroy it, and delete it. But within us, in the possible forms that over time it has been acquired, it resists and guides our journey through that passageway in search of what we still have not found.
Dedicated to the Idealists
2017. Somewhere © Veronica LIsi