British image-maker Billy Barraclough’s fascination with horses led him to discover Ardia—an annual, sacred horseback race held in the Sardinian town of Sedilo—and a rider named Giovanni Andrea Pes. He tells Gilda Bruno what Pes’ hospitality taught him about sharing, open-heartedness and conviviality.
Every July 6 and 7 since “the mists of time,” the Ardia horse race—also known as S’Ardia, or “to keep watch” in the local dialect—takes place in the Italian town of Sedilo, Sardinia. The festivities commemorate Roman Emperor Constantine’s victory at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312 AD. following his mystical vision of a cross: a sign he inscribed on his soldiers’ shields, and to which he ascribed his success before converting to Christianity.
Today “the same cross that appeared to Constantine the night before the fight is omnipresent during Ardia, adorning the horses’ harnesses, embroidered on the participants’ standards, punctuating the race route and evoked by the riders’ gestures,” Giovanni Andrea Pes, one of Ardia’s most fearless protagonists, tells me. From the outside, “Ardia might look like a chaotic, 100 horse-race, but a careful observer will spot the countless facets that make it one of a kind,” he says of the event, which proves “that Christianity is safe and will live for another year.”
Young boys in Sedilo grew up with dreams of being horse riders, and the village resounded with the shuffling of hooves rather than the buzz of mopeds.
Since stumbling upon an old race track in Lebanon’s Beirut in the late 2010s, London-based photographer Billy Barraclough had become captivated by “the strong emotions on display” in horse racing. It was this passion that helped him discover Ardia last year, while researching equestrian traditions. “Seeing press shots of horses riding full-speed through Sedilo’s streets hooked me in,” the photographer recalls. As he dug deeper into the reality of the village itself, Barraclough understood there was more to the race than its tangible frenzy.
The cult of Saint Constantine’s shrine had favored a rich horse culture legacy in the town, which caught Barraclough’s attention. “I read about how the young boys in Sedilo grew up with dreams of being horse riders, and that the village resounded with the shuffling of hooves rather than the buzz of mopeds,” he explains. Not knowing of any other photography projects set there before, he says he just took a leap and booked his flight ticket. To prepare for the pageant, Barraclough read about Ardia’s history, that of the town and Sardinia, and focused on the event’s cultural and spiritual significance. He watched films on it, as well as looking into previous visual portrayals of Sedilo.
“When working in a country that isn’t my own, research is a massive component for me,” says the image-maker. The rest happens on-site. Interested in building a relationship with the place and the people there before making images, “I stayed in the town for ten days, including a week in the lead-up to the race,” he adds. It was within the first hours from his arrival that Barraclough met Pes, with whom he clicked instantly. “I have found the most extraordinary story protagonist,” the photographer told me in a message that day. “Like a coming-of-age film main character.”
A 19-year-old Sedilo native born into a household of livestock farmers, Pes splits his time between working alongside his father and his family, friends and hobbies, particularly horse riding. Describing his hometown as “a small village of great traditions,” he explains that, when you are raised in an environment where horses aren’t merely relied on as a source of income, but also as physical support in the fields and as a means of keeping local heritage alive, it’s impossible not to develop an inclination for it. “I was born with horses—or rather, the horses were already there when I came into this world,” Pes says. With his father being a long-time Ardia veteran, it’s as if his path had already been laid out for him. Instead of taking it for granted, the promising racer works hard to live up to the expectations he has of it.
To Barraclough, this was palpable. “I was visually taken by him and his horse,” he says. “He has a beautiful, striking black mare and, being an incredibly talented rider, I felt an urge to capture his relationship with the race, his horse and his fellow riders.” For the sprinting youth, Ardia served as a rite of passage. Speaking on his first participation in it, Pes explains that the concentration required by it overshadowed all hesitation. Backed by his father, who advised him on how to behave in critical points of the path, he became one with the timeless, mystical energy of Ardia.
“I remember the silence of the crowds seconds before the start, how it was suddenly broken by the clatter of the horses’ hooves on the dusty ground,” says the rider. He didn’t hear the shots of the rifles loaded with blanks, nor the screaming crowd, only the sound of his horse’s gallop as it devoured the road and that of his heart beating wildly. Soon, Pes was alone. “Even though I ran alongside my father, I could no longer rely on him, but had to put his generous advice into practice and manage on my own,” he explains. It was in that wild race that “I realized I had grown up.”
Throughout Barraclough’s stay in Sedilo, the two met up daily in Pes’ horse stable to document how the animal was handled, fed and prepared for the competition. Communicating over Google Translate, they found common ground in their curiosity for each other’s story. During the day, the photographer would be shown around the village’s archeological sites by locals. At night, he would join them at the dinner table, where “they went out of their way to make me feel comfortable, safe and welcome at all times.” It was an experience that showed Barraclough “the importance, beauty and joy of letting strangers into your space,” a gift the image-maker now sets out to give to other people he encounters in his life.
Expressing his gratitude for Barraclough’s interest in lensing the nuances of Ardia, Pes describes his sun-baked, chiaroscuro chronicle of the race—juxtaposing intimate moments of reflection, ritualism and horse care with movement-swept, riveting vignettes of the event at its climax—as a sincere manifestation of the affective, human-animal collaboration that drives the festivity, and a proof of the unwavering respect the Sedilesi nurture for horses. For the people of Sedilo, “Ardia is not a fairytale or a fantasy,” shares another rider in a video filmed by Barraclough last summer. “You’ve been dreaming of those moments since you were a child, trying to relieve what your parents and uncles have taught you. You’re representing the history and culture of your island: it is a feeling unlike any other. That’s what Ardia is—an emotion.”