The battle of the Flour
Città della Pieve – Umbria
Every time I think of the Battle of the Flour of Città della Pieve, it seems to me that I am still there, in that square saturated with white dust, laughter, screams and an energy so intense that I forget everything else.
It’s August 2010, the sun is slowly setting and the students are preparing to give life to one of the most fascinating traditions I have ever photographed.
Everything starts almost suddenly just after the historical procession that runs through the city. The wagons loaded with sacks of flour are making their way to different points in the square while the representatives of the terzieri exchange battle promises and look at each other with loads of defiance. The public meanwhile gathers along the edges of the square, ready to witness the impending chaos.
On one hand, a huge catapult facing a wooden tower suggests that it will not be a simulated battle, as sometimes happens in historical reenactment parades.
When everything starts, time seems to slow down. The first bags of flour are thrown into the air, creating a light cloud, almost poetic, which soon turns into an impenetrable white curtain.
Everything is quickly overrun by an incredible frenetic confusion in which it is difficult to distinguish the participants in the battle.
Despite a handkerchief tight on the face, breathing becomes an undertaking. Each breath brings with it the smell of flour, dense and persistent. The view is reduced to a few meters. The camera, protected by a tightly closed nylon bag, is hidden under a thin layer of flour which makes it difficult to use.
The laughter and screaming of the participants however create a sense of emotional, if not physical orientation.
The battle of Farina di Città della Pieve – a moment in the battle
With the camera in hand, I try to capture every moment and every expression is offered to me. Bags fly from all directions, some fall to the ground while others hit participants with a muffled thud. Even walking becomes difficult through the broken bags on the ground.
Each shot is a challenge, with the lens fogged in by flour and the sun’s increasingly dim light, hidden by the cloud of flour that surrounds us.
Yet, in that chaos, there is an incredible beauty: the smiles covered with dust, the moments of complicity between the members of the tertiary and that strange disorderly dance that transforms the fight into a kind of celebration.
The battle of the flour
The end of the battle of flour
In the end, like any great battle that respects itself, everything ends with a sudden truce. The bags are finished, the dust begins to settle slowly, revealing a square transformed into a lunar landscape. Everything is white, from the fighters to the public, from monuments to shops all around the square.
There are warm hugs, handshakes and even some bruises, but above all the promise of a rematch the following year.
I can’t say if there were winners or losers. I confess that I didn’t understand it but I had the feeling that it wasn’t such an important detail.
That day leaves me with something beyond the photographs taken.
Every now and then, about those images: the faces hidden by the flour, the hands raised to throw a last bag and I think about how powerful is a tradition that manages to combine history, fun and a bit of madness. Me, from behind the camera, I really enjoyed it!
