[..This project was born out of a close bond with a region and its community – horsemen and shepherds – and a story of friendship with some of the people portrayed. I don’t go hunting and I don’t know how to shoot, but I have a great respect for boar hunts and the rituals surrounding them. During the winters in Maremma, I heard many hunting stories and rediscovered “Il Cinghiale del Diavolo” by Emilio Lussu, which is republished here. Capalbio is a special land for me, which condenses many of the threads that run through my life: nature, Sardinia, horses and racing, the sea and men with history written on their faces…]
“I’d never have believed that I could have missed a boar at such short range. When I shot, the boar was just six steps away.”
“What do you mean, six steps away? Didn’t you didn’t stay where I told you to?”
“Yes, I stayed there. But the boar didn’t come at me from the front, as I was expecting, but from the side. After Giuseppe Testa-Rasa’s shot, the boar didn’t continue straight ahead, towards the oleasters, but swerved right and returned into the forest. I’d heard it coming and was ready. I can’t believe it.”
He got up off the ground and re-enacted the scene.
“I was standing up straight, very sure of myself. I said to myself, ‘If I miss this boar, I’ll become a monk.’ The boar stopped running and paused on the hillside, listening. That’s when I shot. I aimed at the centre of its shoulder, as it was standing still. And I missed.”
From “Il cinghiale del diavolo” by Emilio Lussu