My name is Antonio Ottomanelli, and I am a photographer born in Bari. In March, I traversed the Grecìa Salentina in search of traces of a lesser-known civilization that speaks Griko. Griko is not merely a language—it is an entire civilization. It is neither modern nor Western. During these explorations, I sought to document both tangible and intangible traces of the knowledge, beliefs, art, and rituals that compose this cultural matrix. What remains of Griko is its vision of the world.

Canti della Passione, Cutrofiano (LE)

Sacra Roccia Forata di San Vito, Calimera (LE)

Il Rito del Lunedì dell’Angelo, San Vito, Calimera (LE)

The symbolic places of this civilization exist on both sides of a border. This boundary, or threshold, divides a past that can no longer exist from a future unknown yet deserving of exploration.

These symbolic places always bear traces, making the absence of Griko civilization evident. From the chapel of San Paolo in Galatina to the crypt of San Sebastiano in Sternatia, from the megalith of San Vito to the menhirs of Melpignano, these traces evoke what is missing.

This border, where the past and future coexist, is embodied by Western modernity. Modernity has uprooted a rural civilization from its identity roots, introducing the bourgeois myth of industrialization as a form of emancipation. This development model has failed, being colonial in nature, not conceived by or for this territory. Its failure has left deep identity and cultural wounds. Behind it lies a land no longer burdened by De Martino’s remorse but one of obliteration. Ahead lies the prospect of commodifying the Griko civilization, reducing it to mere aesthetics.

Brindisi Petrochemical Complex (BR)

The handwritten and typewritten works of Cesare De Santis were not a discovery. I was certain Rocco, his son, had preserved notebooks, photographs, and documents related to his father. I knew Cesare De Santis to be an orderly man who valued and conserved things. As a farmer-poet, he learned through manual labor—poetic in itself—to use resources with great care and avoid waste.

The term “poetry” relates to manual labor, stemming from the Greek Poieo, meaning “to create.” It’s a beautiful, politically and aesthetically powerful word that merges two concepts often seen as opposites in modern Western society: manual labor and imagination, work and art.

Thus, Cesare De Santis’ manuscripts, his numerous roles, his return to the South, and his family embody the truest definition of awareness.

Farmer Poet Cesare De Santis Photographic Archive

First edition of “Col tempo e con la paglia“, Cesare De Santis. Edizioni Pensionante de’ Saraceni

I met Gianlorenzo through Rocco De Santis. Together with Floriana, Sara, Gianluca, Paolo, and Francesco, Gianlorenzo founded the association Grika Milume. This group provides opportunities and tools to learn and deepen understanding of Griko culture.

Their work interests me because it seems to arise from a sense of disorientation, which they proactively address rather than resigning to it. It’s their way of rebuilding identity and speaking a language that is neither global nor Western.

Their choice represents an act of resistance and re-existence against homogenization. That’s why I decided to portray them—it feels like capturing a possible alternative world manifesting itself.

I photographed them on the terraces of Palazzo Raho in Martignano, the smallest town in Grecìa Salentina, at sunset—a time when light and shadow coexist harmoniously on bodies, forms, and landscapes.

Gianlorenzo, Grika Milume Association

The crypt of San Sebastiano, a monument crucial to the history of Griko civilization in Salento, isn’t easy to find as it’s located on private property. In Sternatia, on the edge of the historic center, I arrived at the listed address but found only private gates. I rang the bell at the house where the chapel was supposed to be.

The owners guided me through their courtyard to a small black iron door. Once there, they saw me through cameras monitoring the property and immediately opened the crypt’s door.I would have stayed in this meditative space for hours, but the owners couldn’t keep it open long.

The chapel of San Paolo in Galatina, symbolic of the tarantism tradition, is also private property.

Crypt of San Sebastiano, Sternatia (LE)

Exploring this land wasn’t easy for me as an autonomous southern regionalist. The civil collapse brought on by Western modernity in this territory is stark. It has violently destroyed so-called minor civilizations, reducing their self-determination and labeling them as “false,” “archaic,” “illusory,” or “obsolete.”

I encountered landscapes that produce silence and meditated on nostalgia to understand who I have been.

Menhir, Melpignano (LE); Wind turbines, Melendugno (LE); Aviator Monument, Galatina (LE)

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