Matteo, what approach guided you in creating this series of images?

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It all started with the stomach ache that’s been overwhelming me lately. I asked a microbiologist a few questions, and he pointed straight at the “microbiota” and “microbiome”—topics that are getting a lot of attention recently, sometimes with a touch of superficial enthusiasm. That’s how I landed on a theme that intrigued me. I then broadened my focus to the functioning of the human body as a whole, designing the surfaces of my images in a very specific way: I thought about what causes me the most physical and psychological discomfort, an emblem of indulgence—whipped cream cake. Then I selected images of organs whose functions depend on the presence of bacteria and printed them onto sugar paste, the kind usually used to decorate party cakes. I let the bacteria proliferate until mold appeared—visible even to the naked eye, which craves microscopic images. Finally, I photographed them, making them two-dimensional, almost like scans.

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The title of the series is “Symbionts”. Can you explain it to us?

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The term “symbiont” refers to a microorganism that shares its life with another, with both deriving mutual benefits from the union. When we talk about “microbiota,” we’re referring to a population of microorganisms that colonize a specific environment. The term “microbiome”, on the other hand, describes the entire genetic heritage of the microbiota—that is, the genes it is capable of expressing. Between bacteria and the human body, there is a symbiotic relationship—perfect, or nearly so—that begins at birth and silently works within us to maintain balance and harmony. Consider the digestive system: without certain bacteria, it couldn’t break down and metabolize what we eat. The same goes for the mouth: neglecting oral hygiene allows normally harmless bacteria to proliferate excessively, leading to issues like cavities and other common conditions. Superficially, however, we tend to see bacteria as enemies of humanity and do everything we can to purify or sterilize ourselves, ignoring their essential role in our well-being. We reduce bacteria to a source of illness, erasing any notion of harmony or health.

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What kind of symbiotic relationship emerges from your images?

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A direct relationship that speaks of the body’s symbiotic ecosystem. It’s a dialogue that cannot not exist—a constantly evolving relationship, a complex system. Symbiosis as a condition of perfect cohabitation. In my images, I symbolically highlight the colors, features, and glossy textures of what lives and proliferates.

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Why did you choose this theme?

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As I mentioned, I was trying to understand what was disturbing my gut. I was traumatized by the overuse of sanitizers; I dislike extremes and the obsessions that stem from misunderstood fears. To overcome this phobia—to neutralize it and avoid anxiety or counterproductive behavior—I tried to explore myself deeply, observing my stress and its effects from a distance. I think it’s important to pause and reflect on the fact that our obsessions and stress can disrupt what naturally tends toward balance. We live in polluting ways, and even the ways we try to heal our bodies and minds are often pollutants themselves, patching over surfaces rather than addressing deeper issues.

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More broadly, what is your artistic vision?

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Through images, I discover my passions and their complexity. I’ve always seen photographic research as a way to escape the greedy concreteness of reality. I create images that are sharp, dense, evocative, and utopian. Today, when I shoot, I already see in my mind how the light will strike and shape the forms in three dimensions, imprinting bold flavors. In my projects, I seek multidimensionality, sensory stimulation—amplified even through sound. I’m drawn to plasticity and have been experimenting with practices inspired by sculpture, a technique I came to know through collecting catalogs of ancient art, which I appreciate for their meticulous and concise seriality. I try to stir something within the viewer, tapping into their imagination; I evoke settings and physical sensations, whether real or imagined, where the familiar clashes with what we’d rather not see.

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Why do you think it’s important to communicate through images?

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If viewers manage to detach from sheer rationality, they can begin to feel and perceive concepts. It may sound banal, but we don’t see everything with our eyes, just as we don’t hear everything with our ears. The image is also a tool for reflection—a series of decisions condensed into a perception-based synthesis.

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*Conversation curated by Stefania Zanetti.