At first glance, it seems like A New Friend, Domenico Matera’s ongoing series, is ‘just’ about horses. The Italian artist takes pictures of this majestic animals to capture their beauty, sensitivity, and even their souls. But there’s more to that; in Matera’s practice, there is also a deep interest in philosophy, history, and physics. In today’s interview, we speak with Domenico about his love for horses, what he feels when he’s around them, but also about how all species are interconnected to the Universe and what humans can learn from being in touch with nature.
Hi Domenico, it’s a pleasure to speak with you. First of all, how are you today and where do you answer from?
Hi Arnau! Nice to meet you. I am answering you from Potenza (Southern Italy). I am very well, thank you. I have been following you for a long time and I am thrilled for this opportunity to discuss with you my ongoing work, A New Friend.
I’m glad to hear that! So let’s dive into the series A New Friend, which portrays wild horses in nature. What made you decide for that subject matter?
I have always been fascinated by horses in general, since I was a child. I find them to be extremely sensitive animals. In my region full of green hills and woods, I have often seen them running through the mountaintop meadows, following the direction of the wind, seeking shelter from the sun in the shade of the woods. This has generated in me a sense of strong fascination towards them that has led me to investigate and observe them in an intimate light.
So one afternoon I went to a riding school half an hour from home. I wanted to follow an energy that had ignited in me seeing them so free and strong in the wild nature, so I decided to investigate them on multiple levels — exploring their behavior in a way diametrically opposed to this sense of incredible freedom that I perceived in nature: to see if they were actually so energetic even in contact with humans.
So one afternoon I went to a riding school half an hour from home. I wanted to follow an energy that had ignited in me seeing them so free and strong in the wild nature, so I decided to investigate them on multiple levels — exploring their behavior in a way diametrically opposed to this sense of incredible freedom that I perceived in nature: to see if they were actually so energetic even in contact with humans.
I love how you consider them ‘friends.’ They’re known to be very empathetic animals, and they’re often used in different types of therapies. So how’s your relationship with horses?
Horses are extremely sweet and gentle. The ones accustomed to the presence of humans are highly curious and docile. They have a gentle temperament and love to be petted. During contact they scrutinise carefully and slowly let go, relaxing. For example, I was struck by Masterpiece, a Gypsy Vanner stallion. I had the feeling he was wondering why a stranger was so intrigued by him and his behaviour, and responded with a very strong sense of euphoria and joy, running into the enclosure, and snuggling his nose into my caresses, like a child wriggling with joy at seeing a friend he is very fond of.
Do you recall the first time you got in touch with a horse, and what was that experience like?
My first contact with horses was at the age of five, during a falconry show. I honestly don’t remember many details of that experience. But I was incredibly surprised by the size of these creatures, unknown to me. I remember being annoyed by the fact that humans sat on them and I thought it was totally unfair. I also remember being struck by the wavy motion of their tails and that they, like humans, also had hair that was very similar to ours. I remember that I immediately wanted to pet them and I had no fear whatsoever. It was brief but intense.
You’ve said previously that you think horses can look into our souls. Why is that? Do you think we can see into theirs, or that’s totally different?
Yes, I believe horses can see into the souls of humans. I imagine that in those people they feel they can trust, horses dream of prairies where they can run freely — places where they can live without judgment, surrounded by love and beauty. In my opinion, horses have the ability to see the essence of things. They connect intimately with the concept of physis (nature) and, by doing so, with their own guiding principle. Through this, they spread enthusiasm and hope.
I think horses can perceive the energy of humans, and in this way, they reconnect with their own souls. After all, humans are composed of ionized particles, and we emit a magnetic field in space. It’s up to us to choose how to calibrate and direct our energies.
In my encounters with these creatures, I’ve glimpsed a real opportunity for introspection — an opportunity to reconnect with a primordial energy, one that is interwoven with the order of events and the universe. This energy transcends any explanation or framework; it goes beyond operational procedures, beyond mathematical equations. It doesn’t describe space and time but instead allows us to reconnect with them, to perceive them.
And so, humans too—thinking in terms of energy — can see the essence of the principles that govern all things. This is also true of horses, for they are divine creatures, in whom reside the infinite possibilities of nature's manifestation. If we were horses, we would be happy simply by gazing at ourselves in the mirror.
I think horses can perceive the energy of humans, and in this way, they reconnect with their own souls. After all, humans are composed of ionized particles, and we emit a magnetic field in space. It’s up to us to choose how to calibrate and direct our energies.
In my encounters with these creatures, I’ve glimpsed a real opportunity for introspection — an opportunity to reconnect with a primordial energy, one that is interwoven with the order of events and the universe. This energy transcends any explanation or framework; it goes beyond operational procedures, beyond mathematical equations. It doesn’t describe space and time but instead allows us to reconnect with them, to perceive them.
And so, humans too—thinking in terms of energy — can see the essence of the principles that govern all things. This is also true of horses, for they are divine creatures, in whom reside the infinite possibilities of nature's manifestation. If we were horses, we would be happy simply by gazing at ourselves in the mirror.
Taking pictures of wild animals must be hard — they’re not humans that you can direct and give instructions to. So could you guide us through your creative process when portraying the horses?
I tried to create a natural bond, gradually approaching them through sensory contact. The wild ones, initially, not being accustomed to the presence of humans, are very shy and timid. But they have the same charm as the eagle or the hawk: they scrutinise you from afar, and if you behave naturally and in line with their sensitivity, they gradually approach. I attributed a well-defined spiritual meaning to this attitude of theirs: when we get angry and distance ourselves from our nature, from our guiding principle, the surrounding does not seem to come towards us. While when we are centred in our person, we naturally become incredible centres of attraction, exercising a very strong magnetic field for everything that by our nature we are led to attract.
Similarly, for the creative process I let myself be immersed in this very strong natural attraction, trying to express through visual language the enthusiasm, irony and mystery that horses had generated in me. I looked at them with the curious eyes of a child, attentive to small details: the colours of their coat, the thick hair that sometimes hid their face, and finally the energy visually inherent in their muscles and their posture. It was paradoxical to witness so much strength and energy concentrated in these sensitive beings, in love with their surroundings and with their life.
I was about to approach a specimen when I suddenly noticed the remains of a cow's spine, on a hill where wild horses had stationed themselves in a herd to eat grass. At that moment I thought it was no coincidence that I was seeing it at that very moment, and against the background of that bone structure I saw the stallion full of life. Then I was enveloped in the awareness that everything is part of a universal cosmic flow that progressively advances with respect to the temporal magnitude, evolving in space, according to which all living forms will sooner or later dissolve into it. But I thought that the greatness that remains forever is the positive energy, the love, that lives in the universe, in the trees and in Nature.
Similarly, for the creative process I let myself be immersed in this very strong natural attraction, trying to express through visual language the enthusiasm, irony and mystery that horses had generated in me. I looked at them with the curious eyes of a child, attentive to small details: the colours of their coat, the thick hair that sometimes hid their face, and finally the energy visually inherent in their muscles and their posture. It was paradoxical to witness so much strength and energy concentrated in these sensitive beings, in love with their surroundings and with their life.
I was about to approach a specimen when I suddenly noticed the remains of a cow's spine, on a hill where wild horses had stationed themselves in a herd to eat grass. At that moment I thought it was no coincidence that I was seeing it at that very moment, and against the background of that bone structure I saw the stallion full of life. Then I was enveloped in the awareness that everything is part of a universal cosmic flow that progressively advances with respect to the temporal magnitude, evolving in space, according to which all living forms will sooner or later dissolve into it. But I thought that the greatness that remains forever is the positive energy, the love, that lives in the universe, in the trees and in Nature.
“I believe horses can see into the souls of humans. I imagine that in those people they feel they can trust, horses dream of prairies where they can run freely.”
What do you feel when you’re in touch with horses?
I felt a very strong energy in contact with them so I let myself be carried away by that incredible flow: a sort of cosmic spiral, a galaxy. As I continued to scrutinise them, the energy invigorated more and more. In the iris of the horses I can glimpse the nebulae of the universe and I perceive a sort of interconnection between all living beings and the cosmos. After all, if we could bring the history of the world from the big bang to today, humankind would only live the last seconds of December 31st.
This led me to reconsider these creatures in a new light, as if they could teach us a new world — sunny, friendly, full of energy. I am extremely fascinated by their eyes as sort of cosmic portals, a reflection of their own nature. I also perceived a feeling of euphoria and joy, something that led me to think that perhaps the meaning of life is precisely this: laughing, having fun, falling in love.
This led me to reconsider these creatures in a new light, as if they could teach us a new world — sunny, friendly, full of energy. I am extremely fascinated by their eyes as sort of cosmic portals, a reflection of their own nature. I also perceived a feeling of euphoria and joy, something that led me to think that perhaps the meaning of life is precisely this: laughing, having fun, falling in love.
You say of the project: “In an era when the notion of bodily fulfillment is often suffocated by the falsehood of words, my friendship with horses has enabled me to encounter an unfiltered truth.” Could you unpack what this ‘unfiltered truth’ is about?
Through sensory contact with horses, I perceived a pure energy — something extremely essential that neither yearns for anything outside itself nor contracts inward, neither exalts itself nor depresses itself, but shines with the light through which it sees the truth of all things. In this sense, I believe that horses are intimately interconnected with the Universe. They can teach humankind to live according to nature, centred in their own guiding principle, which is closely connected to the cosmos and space-time.
In their love for their surroundings, I sensed the curiosity of a child. Moreover, when I saw them running in a group, I had the feeling that horses knew how to orient themselves, as if they could perceive their position within a map, reaching specific places without getting lost, guided by their own inner light — a sort of superpower, a magnetoreceptor. In my contact with them, I felt immersed in this energy. I experienced pure feelings linked to the infinite vastness of the Universe and nature, sensing a revealing power: as if, once centered in one's own nature, through the knowledge of one's inner daimon, everything could acquire a ‘natural’ flow.
By nourishing our own daimon, we can reconnect with ourselves, through the entheos (enthusiasm) with which the Greeks identified the god within us. I find it fascinating to think of ourselves as small, as an infinitesimal part of the Universe, in which, paradoxically, the infinitely great is also hidden in its essence. This is the principle that generated us and to which we will return, dissolving.
In their love for their surroundings, I sensed the curiosity of a child. Moreover, when I saw them running in a group, I had the feeling that horses knew how to orient themselves, as if they could perceive their position within a map, reaching specific places without getting lost, guided by their own inner light — a sort of superpower, a magnetoreceptor. In my contact with them, I felt immersed in this energy. I experienced pure feelings linked to the infinite vastness of the Universe and nature, sensing a revealing power: as if, once centered in one's own nature, through the knowledge of one's inner daimon, everything could acquire a ‘natural’ flow.
By nourishing our own daimon, we can reconnect with ourselves, through the entheos (enthusiasm) with which the Greeks identified the god within us. I find it fascinating to think of ourselves as small, as an infinitesimal part of the Universe, in which, paradoxically, the infinitely great is also hidden in its essence. This is the principle that generated us and to which we will return, dissolving.
There’s a strong philosophical component behind what you do. You speak of reality, how words can’t really express the human capacity to perceive reality and the universe, and the importance of visual language over words. How do you convey these metaphysical concerns through images?
Through visual language, I explore myself. I believe that a key aspect of this discipline is the refusal to draw clear boundaries around reality. In this sense, we must feel like disciples of nature, recognising in it an infinite power that, in a certain way, we can only borrow in a very small part. This leads us to explore our surroundings from scratch, with the awareness that we won’t live forever. We must make the most of this opportunity the universe has given us to live fully — getting excited, feeling infinitely small, but filled with great euphoria and joy, which comes from the demolition of the ego.
This attitude reflects the understanding that we do not live to win a race or to prove our worth to others, but rather to love—and the universe teaches us this continuously, every day. It does so through the explosive colours of its nebulae, through the mystery of the dark matter in which we are immersed, and through the concept of singularity found within black holes, where physical and mathematical laws cease to exist.
This awareness of living in a reality that seems entirely science-fiction has led me to realise that the life of a single person is too short to explain the infinity of the universe and its countless manifestations. We can only perceive it through philosophy, art, and by reconnecting with ourselves, rediscovering every day the reason why we live—something that cannot truly be explained in words.
This attitude reflects the understanding that we do not live to win a race or to prove our worth to others, but rather to love—and the universe teaches us this continuously, every day. It does so through the explosive colours of its nebulae, through the mystery of the dark matter in which we are immersed, and through the concept of singularity found within black holes, where physical and mathematical laws cease to exist.
This awareness of living in a reality that seems entirely science-fiction has led me to realise that the life of a single person is too short to explain the infinity of the universe and its countless manifestations. We can only perceive it through philosophy, art, and by reconnecting with ourselves, rediscovering every day the reason why we live—something that cannot truly be explained in words.
To finish, the A New Friend series is lovely. Do you plan on expanding it, or do you consider it finished? And do you have any other series/projects in mind you’d like to do next?
I am in love with how reality can be visualised through the language of art and philosophy, and I think that both these disciplines transmit to humankind the infinite beauty of humility — they admit as a prerequisite the feeling of being ‘poor’ to welcome the infinity of the surrounding and the universe. Only in this way, I think, can we perceive the essential and the infinite, crossing stereotypes and tradition, thus diverging from within.
In my language today, I explore the concepts of mystery and energy linked to the cosmos and nature. I do not like to confine things: I try to follow the energy I am attracted to in the most natural way possible, combining ethics with aesthetics, seeking interconnections between the infinitely large and the infinitely small. In light of this, the work A New Friend is an ongoing project that I would like to expand.
In the future, I thought also about wanting to create a work on water and the sea. Since studying hydraulic engineering on a scientific level, I have often asked myself in which artistic/philosophical direction this study could be placed, and in general I am fascinated by the bond that physics exerts on philosophy and art. The sea has the ability to provide humankind with revealing keys, to free us from negativity and also to make us feel infinitely small but potentially infinite by observing the fascinating and unexplored world of the oceans from above.
In my language today, I explore the concepts of mystery and energy linked to the cosmos and nature. I do not like to confine things: I try to follow the energy I am attracted to in the most natural way possible, combining ethics with aesthetics, seeking interconnections between the infinitely large and the infinitely small. In light of this, the work A New Friend is an ongoing project that I would like to expand.
In the future, I thought also about wanting to create a work on water and the sea. Since studying hydraulic engineering on a scientific level, I have often asked myself in which artistic/philosophical direction this study could be placed, and in general I am fascinated by the bond that physics exerts on philosophy and art. The sea has the ability to provide humankind with revealing keys, to free us from negativity and also to make us feel infinitely small but potentially infinite by observing the fascinating and unexplored world of the oceans from above.
