how it all began...

My Story

My father, a man of wisdom, taught me to seek answers in books and encyclopaedias first and to ask him for help only when those words were too arcane and incomprehensible for me; and then, to question everything. This early thirst for knowledge laid the groundwork for a lifelong journey of discovery. 

​As a child, my favourite game [while sitting in the dark] was hosting imaginary conferences where I pretended to speak multiple languages — even if they were made-up versions of French, German, or English — and I was translating, mediating and unknowingly practising the art of bringing people together from different worlds, different perspectives. I also celebrated Mass with my dolls pretending I was reading in Latin from a very heavy and old Roman Missal. But my inquisitiveness was often met with laughter, especially when I asked the big questions — questions no one seemed to take seriously.​ My academic journey started with subjects traditionally seen as "masculine" — physics, mechanics, and mathematics. I was the only girl in these classes from the age of 14 to 18. But the more I explored, the more I realised my mind was seeking something deeper. My love for adventure was further nurtured by my grandfather, who took me across the world, introducing me to new cultures. We would get lost together, and I developed a habit of always keeping a bag packed — ready to go, to explore, learn, and immerse myself in the unknown.

In 1986, while studying at UWC Atlantic College, my professor of English Literature Jane Lund Mathiesen revealed a new way of thinking to me. She showed me how Hemingway’s works were connected to John Donne, and how Macbeth could be analysed through multiple lenses — psychological, theatrical, and literary — depending on its context. This revelation planted a seed in me that connections between seemingly disparate ideas and disciplines were not only possible, but essential.​

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A pivotal moment occurred in 1988, when my brain suddenly "shut down." For a [long]  time, I saw nothing but blackness — no differentiation, no emotional recognition. Everything was numb. Then, as if struck by lightning on my personal road to Damascus, I experienced a flood of sensation. I could see every colour, hear every sound, and feel every subtle difference in my surroundings. It took me 15 years to learn how to manage and discriminate against these overwhelming sensations and to bring balance to my inner world.

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Still, in my black period, around 1989, I discovered the works of James Joyce and Virginia Woolf, and their stream-of-consciousness writing validated my own complex, inquisitive thought processes. Later that same year, while crossing a street in Udine, I conceived the idea of a think tank — a space where people could come together to tackle humanity’s most profound question: Why are we here? This think tank would become the seed of paleophenomenology, an idea that has since flourished.

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In 1995, following the death of my father, I lost my faith in God and turned back to the sciences, seeking answers in oceanography, marine biology, geology, and even astronomy. My studies on Neanderthals began around this time. I became fascinated by James Lovelock’s Gaia Theory, which emphasises the self-regulation of Earth as a living system and Ecology seemed to explain the world around me. It mirrored my search for inner balance, and at the same time, the New Age movement introduced me to metaphor, myth, and symbol, all without the rigid dogmas I had grown tired of. The external disciplined ideas of interconnectedness mirrored a total lack of inner individuation and self-awareness; and my sense of existential cosmic loneliness. I searched for God everywhere: in books, Churches, Buddhist temples; among Zen, Tao, Jehovah Witnesses, Kabbalah, theosophy, shamanism, paganism, tarots. I read the Bible in five different denominations, immersing myself in translations and history. Always asking: yes, but what came before? Nothing. "God" was nowhere to be seen.

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I did what was expected of me — I got married, worked as little as I could, and tried to settle into a conventional life. But I never stopped exploring. Each of these spiritual pursuits left me feeling lost, searching for something elusive. I started countless projects, but I never finished them. I wrote books, exhibited my photographs. Asked more questions. Looking back, I now see this as a movement in concentric circles — slowly drawing closer to an inevitable centre, though at the time, it was hard to see the direction.

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In 2008, I left Italy, my family, and my husband, and moved to the UK to begin studying therapy for my own healing. I embraced eclecticism blending existential and Jungian approaches; I trained as a chaplain and brought the mystical into the physical. I was rebelling against the rigidity I had felt in both therapy and religion. Both, it seemed, were based on fear, and neither allowed for critical thinking or real philosophical growth.

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By 2018, while studying Fine Art at Blackburn College, I revisited my experience of the earthquake in my first major piece, CONSERVATION. A few years later, in 2020, while pursuing my BA at York St. John University, I discovered Deleuze, felt I found someone who thought like me, fell in love with his rhizomatic ideas, wrote an award-winning dissertation on Hilma ak Klint, and by 2022, my Practice-led MA by Research had pushed me beyond pseudo-science, grounding and contextualising my potpourri of ideas in academic research.

Finally, in 2024, as part of my PhD work at Bangor University, paleophenomenology was fully born. This method takes us back to the root — before divisions, separations, and labels. It transcends the representational, focusing not on the final product, but on the very moments that precede creation. What compels us to create? How do we experience that first smudge, that first mark of awareness? What disciplines can we use to find an answer? How do these disciplines merge? And then: what was the first thing that a Neanderthal was aware of?

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Paleophenomenology seeks to understand the invisible forces within us — the awareness of the self as separate from the Other, and the recognition of the unseen that moves us. It merges archeology, paleoanthropology, phenomenology both of the Self and of the Landscape, Shamanism, Alchemy, Material Culture, Jungian Studies, Alchemical Psychology, ...

While I stand on the shoulders of great scholars and thinkers — those who have delved deeply into their specific fields — I see my strength as one of bridging and connecting. I view data and theories from a helicopter perspective, noticing patterns, similarities, and contrasts even in the most disparate things. 

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Paleophenomenology sees the implementation of various skills:

Interdisciplinary Research – Combining diverse fields like archaeology, anthropology, Jungian psychology, shamanism, and alchemy to pioneer new approaches such as paleophenomenology.
Critical Thinking & Analytical Skills – The ability to interpret complex phenomena, from Neanderthal art and consciousness to abstract psychological and metaphysical concepts, and present them cohesively.
Jungian Analysis – Deep understanding of Jungian psychology and applying it to both academic research and therapeutic contexts, particularly in exploring symbolism, consciousness, and the unconscious.
Phenomenological Interpretation – Expertise in engaging with phenomenology, especially in applying it to early human experiences and landscapes.

Cultural Sensitivity & Ethical Research – Respect for ancient cultures and practices, ensuring ethical engagement with archaeological sites and materials.
Creative Problem Solving – Ability to integrate diverse ideas and solve complex problems, whether in research, therapeutic work, or project planning.

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I am feeling very proud to introduce Paleophenomenology to you all!

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(c) 2024 mtomat