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LOVE MOM

Matteo Buonomo

2019
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I can’t say exactly what made me understand they were special.
Maybe it was the way she looked at her son when I put my face inside the car.
Maybe it was the way her son immediately moved between his mother and me, as if to protect her.
It was a matter of seconds, and I felt that something special was in that car.
I met Kristal two weeks after her last overdose.
We met by accident.
I was hitchhiking across the US with no set destination.
She was driving along Highway 412 in Arkansas.
I was looking for humanity.
She was with Skyler, her son.
I was inspired by Steinbeck’s pages.
She was headed home.
It was midday.
All the shadows fell harshly to the ground.
My thumb was up on the side of the road.
Kristal drove her shabby white jeep closer and stopped a few meters ahead of me.
She gave me a ride.
I was immediately impressed by them.
I felt that Kristal and Skyler had a special connection.
I saw a bold relationship between a mother and a son—a relationship I never had.
I felt that everything I was looking for was in that car.
I was headed nowhere.
I stayed with them.
I experienced the opposite side of the American Dream.
I felt the loneliness and melancholy of when people stop dreaming.
What follows is the chronicle of the time we spent together.
Doing things and doing nothing.
Being happy and being sad.
Being excited and being frustrated.

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The Artist
Matteo Buonomo
Nominated in
2025
By
CAMERA Centro Italiano per la Fotografia
Lives and Works in
Noto, Sicily
He approached photography as a self-taught artist after earning a diploma in Graphic Design and Art Direction from NABA Milan in 2014. In 2015, after spending one year in Tbilisi (Georgia) working on a documentary about Abkhazian refugees, he returned to Italy and joined the photography collective CESURA, where he remained for two years. During this time, he worked as an assistant to photographer Gabriele Micalizzi and collaborated with Alex Majoli (MAGNUM) on the production of several major exhibitions. While at CESURA, he shifted away from a photojournalistic approach, developing a long-term, research-driven photographic practice with a strong focus on photobooks. After leaving the collective in 2017, he began working as a freelance photographer. His journey took him first to Siberia, where he worked on the project I Don’t Try to Feel Awake Anymore. In 2019, in Oklahoma, where a chance encounter with Kristal and her son Skyler led to Love Mom, an ongoing project that explores the sometimes toxic relationship between a mother and her son while also reflecting on emptiness and the profound solitude embedded in the vastness of the American suburbs. In 2020, driven by the need to find a place to call home, he moved from Milan to a small village of 50 inhabitants in the Val di Noto. There, he began working on All These Goodbyes, a body of work that serves as both self-reflection and the story of an escape. In the spring of 2021, he spent three months in Denmark collaborating with photographer Jacob Aue Sobol (MAGNUM) on the production of his book James House (2022). In 2022, he was selected as one of the 25 winners of Italian Panorama, an open call organized by Vogue Italia and PhotoVogue. In January 2023, the Penumbra Foundation (New York, USA) awarded him a full scholarship for its Long-Term Photobook Program.
More projects by this artist
2014

All these goodbyes

I’m pruning the lavender outside my home door.
It’s late September.
I planted this lavender with my girlfriend and my father 5 years ago.
We moved here 5 years ago, my girlfriend and I.
Here it’s a tiny countryside village in Southern Sicily.
I saw a personal hope in this lavender.
I’m horrible as a gardener.
I never know where to cut.
To grow without needing much.
To be simple.
To develop strong and deep and firm roots.
That’s the hope I had.
I came here to exile myself.
I came here to find a spark of grace in my solitude.
I came here to be comforted by the shimmering of the light on a wet leaf after the rain.
The lavender has grown big.
I have the feeling that something is coming to an end.
I often find myself chasing any sort of end.
On some windy days I can smell the lavender presence the moment I open the door.
I came here to calm my turmoil.
This place left me restless.
The huge vastness around me gave me a sense of claustrophobia.
It’s starting to rain.
This is probably the last time I’m pruning my lavender.
She made it.
I failed.