Opening ceremony for Matera, Capital of Culture 2019 in Borgo La Martella.
Michele Battilomo: Basilicata is one of the least densely populated regions in Italy. Young people here grow up with some sort of Peter Pan syndrome, waiting to find their place in society. In comparison with Apulia, here you don’t see many people who’ve left come back to, say, renovate their grandad’s farm and make a B&B or a restaurant out of it.They’ve tried many things here – land reforms, measures to boost employment, hiring subsidies, tax credits – nothing worked. Not even the Val d’Agri oil field managed to bring about even a bit of progress. In fact, a quarter [23.4 percent, to be exact] of Basilicata residents live in poverty.
Metaponto 2020, a beach on the Ioanian Sea (eastern Mediterranean).
The process seems unstoppable, it started decades ago and it has mainly affected the region’s interior. The dynamics are always the same: There are more people dying than being born, and the few young people left flee as soon as possible, either towards the cities or towards the coasts where it’s easier to find a job and think of the future.I’ve also experienced a sense of emptiness and of not fitting in because there were no people my age around. That made me want to explore my region’s interior to try to really figure out what’s been happening to my land. Touring these small villages, I was struck by the sense of melancholy that permeates these magical places; a region suspended in time, waiting for a redemption that never came.The most drastic consequence [of depopulation] is its destruction of the local socio-economic and cultural institutions due to lack of basic services. Schools are growing emptier so they’re often coupled up together in neighbouring villages or in bigger towns. The post offices and banks are closing, while entire hospital departments are transferred to Potenza and Matera, the two main cities. In this context, photography allows me to share how my reality is changing with people who can’t see it for themselves.
May Festival. Accettura, 2018.
I live here for many reasons, which combined to make me stay and try to resist this process. I’m very attached to my land, to its strong contradictions, to the values and traditions that make it unique. With my photos, I’m trying to keep all these things – which may soon disappear – alive. What do older people think of the young generations who’ve moved away?
For us, migrating is normal: Our grandparents lived in Germany, our parents were working-class migrants in northern Italy, our generation migrates to study. Being on the periphery means being forgotten and marginalised.
A detail from the Hotel Val D’agri in Francavilla, now abandoned. 2021.
I think that the key to changing things is boosting cultural activities at the [local] university and turn it into a place with a good reputation, both in terms of its educational and creative offerings. We’d need to improve Basilicata’s transport connections by making better use of the region’s already existing infrastructure and public transport. On top of that, we’d also need to make broadband wifi more easily accessible to everyone. Encouraging a new vision for the future is the only way to create a long-term path towards socio-economic revitalisation.Scroll down to see more pictures:
Miglionico, 2020.
The Three Borders, a regional highway crossing Basilicata 2022.
Calanchi di Pisticci, 2019.
The Antropological Carneval of Tricarico. 2019.
May Festival. Accettura, 2018.
A church in ruins in Grottole. 2020.
Satriano, 2017.
The Antropological Carnival in Tricarico, 2019. The costume has no relation to the Clan.
Miglionico, 2020.
Patron Saint Festival in Baragiano, 2018.