Enrico Follese's photos lead us through the archaeological ruins of Cagliari's historic stadium

September the 12th, 1970, Cagliari has the first, and only, Scudetto sewn on its jerseys. The team-symbol of the Sardinian island, led by the omnipotence of Gigi Riva, has just won a legendary title, shocking the entire nation, and is unveiling a new home: the Sant’Elia Stadium. It’s the beginning of a bittersweet dream.

Improbable fires, urban planning illogicalities and infrastructural mismanagement push Sant’Elia down to the abyss of decay season after season. Not even the Italia ’90 World Cup works mutate an inexorable process of self-destruction, amplified by constant institutional shortsightedness and carelessness. The Sant’Elia suffers along with the ‘Casteddu’ fans, turning first into an agonizing football cathedral, then into ruins.

Enrico Follesa’s lens guides us through archaeological visions of the contemporary Sant’Elia, where emotions and goals echo in mystical scenarios and evocative voids, showing us the uninhabited beauty of an aggregating hub incapable of withstanding human fallacy. Half a century after its genesis, Sant’Elia Stadium is silently awaiting a second life.

‘Remember me’ is not a request, but a warning. It’s the desire to bring back to life what has been incomprehensibly allowed to die. It’s the will to avoid more surreal mistakes. It’s the prayer of every fan who has populated these stands with choruses, tears and flags. It’s the artistic search for order in incomprehensible chaos.