Based in Milan, photographer Matteo Triola explores architecture and interiors through a lens shaped by design, geometry, and natural light. In this interview, he reflects on his creative journey, the influence of Milan’s evolving architectural landscape, and his pursuit of balance, calm, and abstraction within contemporary visual culture.
Matteo, after reviewing your work, we can observe a harmonious blend of architecture, interiors, and portraits. Considering that you reside in Milan, a city where architecture, fashion, and design intertwine seamlessly, we’re curious to understand how the city’s rhythm influences your visual style. Additionally, we’d like to know about the origins of your photography journey and when space and architecture became the primary subjects of your work.
First of all, I wanted to thank you for the opportunity you’ve given me and for choosing to share my work with your readers.
My passion for architecture comes from my training as an interior designer, and as a result, I’m drawn to everything that revolves around design, architecture, and living spaces. Photography, to be honest, arrived at a later stage. I began taking pictures during my travels, driven by the need to keep track of the places I visited, but with a more analytical and methodical approach than simply taking quick photos with my phone (which I still do quite often).
Initially, I mainly photographed landscapes and monuments, and occasionally took street photographs of passers-by. Subsequently, influenced by my studies, my eye increasingly sought to place the architectural element at the center of the frame, focusing on geometry and the interplay of light and shadow. This is still what I enjoy photographing today, whether it’s a church, a retail space, or an exhibition space. I also really enjoy focusing on details, especially the materials used in a project, which are often what make the difference.
I must also say that living in Milan has greatly helped sharpen my eye and fuel my curiosity. It’s a vibrant, at times almost frenetic, and culturally stimulating city. There’s always an exhibition going on, and people from all over the world come here to engage with the design and fashion system. In recent years, Milan has been constantly changing from an urban planning perspective: the architectural landscape has been enriched with new buildings alongside a wealth of historic architecture, including works by important 20th-century Italian architects. To me, it’s fascinating to witness and document this silent dialogue.
When one looks at your portfolio, there’s an immediate sense of calm. Are you consciously seeking silence in your work, or is that something that simply emerges from your way of seeing?
It’s something that no one had ever pointed out to me before. When I take architectural and interior photographs, I always try to find a kind of balance in the composition, to enhance the space and the elements within it. I like symmetry, for sure, although I often enjoy using unusual points of view to create a sense of dynamism or, let’s say, a feeling of the unexpected in the images. Sometimes, I also try to use photography to abstract reality, using architectural details and shadows to create something more metaphysical.
When photographing interior or exhibition spaces, what are the initial elements you consider: form, light, or material?
Light is a fundamental element, especially because I often photograph using only natural light. Therefore, it’s very important to choose the best time of day to achieve a certain result. Then, of course, all the elements within a space, shapes, materials, colors, furnishings, are essential for the composition of the final image and influence the choice of one point of view over another.
Milan Design Week is an intense and sensory experience. As a photographer, how do you perceive it? Do you view it as a creative playground or as a challenge? Considering the temporary nature of the installations, which exist for only a few days, how do you approach capturing something that is destined to vanish?
Milan Design Week is always a very challenging experience for me, but also a fun and creative playground. Every year, I try to gather all the information in advance about the designers and installations that will be there and that I definitely want to see, and I make my battle plan.
Of course, there are some places I try to visit every year, such as the Università Statale with the Interni magazine event, the Rossana Orlandi Gallery, and Alcova, which are always a guarantee. In recent years, however, I have to say I’ve struggled a bit, because there are always more people and the lines have become incredibly long. From experience, I can tell you that it’s not always worth the wait to see what’s inside an exhibition during Design Week.
For a photographer, time is a very important factor during these days, especially when you have to balance work commitments, with very short delivery deadlines, and the desire to attend temporary events. My approach doesn’t change much, because even when I photograph buildings meant to remain for decades, I always try to capture their essence. During Design Week, however, I also like to observe how people interact with the installations, how they approach them, and how they move within the space. That’s the additional element you can find in those images.
During this year’s Milan Design Week, you documented two strikingly different projects: BAD DANCE WITH THE BAD WEEDS by Rocio Berenguer at the House of Switzerland and Platek Euroluce 2025 by Calvi Brambilla & Partners. Both projects explore light and space in completely opposite ways—one exuberant and pink, the other restrained and nocturnal. How did you adapt your visual language to reflect these contrasts?
Each project, such as the two you mentioned, has different characteristics in terms of space, light, and atmosphere. I simply try to enhance them, bringing out the materials, textures, and beauty of the project through the camera. Of course, there are also technical aspects and limitations to consider, but I always make sure my images respect the identity of the project.
In Giallo 368 for the Balloon Museum, you worked with an inflatable yellow architecture that completely transformed perception. What was your main focus when documenting a space that’s literally made of air? The installation constantly shifted as people interacted with it—did you feel the need to capture its movement and fragility, or were you more interested in the stillness within the chaos?
That was a fun experience, because it was my first time in that kind of environment. There were very calm moments, where you could contemplate your surroundings and have the surreal experience of being immersed in a completely yellow, ephemeral space (there were also other rooms with different features). At the same time, there were moments when you could observe people and children interacting with these environments.
As I mentioned before, I’m interested in documenting both situations. In one case, you have the space with all its characteristics, and you can observe every detail that catches your attention in an almost one-to-one relationship. In the other, you find yourself in front of many different episodes that continuously change the perception of the space as people interact with it. It’s curious.
The Paris Texas Showroom in Milan showcases yet another side of your work—monochrome, tactile, and deeply atmospheric. How did you use color and perspective to reflect the brand’s identity while maintaining your signature calm?
The Paris Texas showroom in Milan is an environment with a very strong aesthetic impact. What I appreciate most is the way the architects used each material, from steel to marble and exposed concrete. In this case, color plays a fundamental role in defining the interior—from the carpet to the custom furniture—so I let it take the leading role in the images. Through perspective and composition, I tried to maximize the characteristics of the space and, consequently, enhance its content, in this case luxury shoes and boots.
Your series for Elle Decor Italia at the Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana in Rome captures architectural monumentality with subtle intimacy. What’s your approach to photographing icons of modern architecture without making them feel static or distant?
When I photograph buildings like that, I take all the time I need, observing and walking around the area. I’ve found that focusing on details and getting as close as possible helps me feel the architecture as something less distant and more familiar, almost as if I were visiting an old friend. In short, I try to adopt a close, intimate approach. In many cases, that’s my way of dealing with monumental architecture.
How do you see the relationship between fashion and architecture evolving today, and what do you think has driven the growing interest of major fashion houses in architectural spaces and design narratives?
Fashion and architecture have always interacted, and this is especially evident in the work of great photographers who have captured this relationship, such as Peter Lindbergh and Tim Walker. In recent years, however, this connection has strengthened significantly, as seen in the fashion shows and events of major brands like Gucci, Fendi, Prada, Louis Vuitton, and Dior. These brands have chosen iconic locations all over the world, from Castel del Monte in Italy to the Salk Institute for Biological Studies in San Diego and the Palais Bulles in France.
I believe this growing interest in architecture can be attributed to its evocative power and its ability to inspire. In this context, I can also mention a volume I had the opportunity to collaborate on, contributing some of my images: Gucci Prospettive 2: Ancora Milano, a visual diary exploring the relationship between design, architecture, and the city of Milan. It was published in 2024 by Gucci, with Sabato De Sarno as artistic director. This editorial project clearly shows how strongly fashion brands are connected to architecture and design.
In Our Glacial Perspectives with Olafur Eliasson, you step away from the built environment and immerse yourself in pure nature. How was it to capture an installation where time and weather became integral elements of the composition? Did this experience influence how you now photograph urban spaces?
It’s incredible how architecture can communicate and integrate with nature, even at high altitude. In this case, it was particularly special because the author of the project is an artist I’ve admired and followed since university, and this is, to my knowledge, his first and only permanent site-specific installation in Italy. I was very happy to see it in person, especially knowing the conceptual work behind it.
The installation is completely immersed in the natural landscape. Once you reach the glacier, a trail leads you to this observation platform, surrounded by mountains. As you probably know, weather conditions in the mountains can change very quickly, affecting the light significantly. In my case, it was summer, and I was lucky. I observed sunlight hitting the metal portals and sphere for several hours, watching how shapes and shadows evolved. It was a kind of active contemplation, taking photographs at different times to record these changes.
That said, I don’t think this experience changed my way of looking at buildings and interiors in an urban context, because the starting conditions are radically different.
Your personal research delves into the intersection between nature and the urban landscape. Could you share the driving force behind this investigation and its connection to your commissioned work?
I’m very drawn to unusual, unconventional spaces with a strong and well-defined identity. I like architecture that transcends traditional forms, with metaphysical qualities—like in a De Chirico painting—or with symbolic forms and materials that recall nature. For example, I’m thinking of the Chiesa Madre by Ludovico Quaroni and the Cretto by Alberto Burri in Gibellina, Sicily, as well as many projects by Aldo Rossi, such as the Monte Amiata residential complex in Milan.
Churches are often great examples of this kind of space, especially contemporary ones. Think, for instance, of the Church of the Light by Tadao Ando, or the Tomba Brion by Carlo Scarpa. Fortunately, we live in a time when the architectural scene is highly diversified, thanks to new generations of architects and designers, as well as new technologies and AI. I try to highlight these aspects in my commissioned work whenever I see the opportunity.
Finally, if you could capture your dream project—one that embodies your beliefs about architecture, nature, and time—what would it look like?
It would definitely be an architecture by Carlo Scarpa, Ricardo Bofill, or Louis Kahn—a sort of metaphysical space that integrates with its context and embraces nature.
Credits:
Photography: Matteo Triola / @matteotriola
Interview: Maria Diegues / @maadiegues
