Il Palio di Siena a Passion

Simon King: Welcome back to the Pitchside Eye. I'm Simon King, a sports photographer whose work has been published in newspapers, magazines and websites around the world. I'm also a fellow of the Royal Photographic Society. Over the years, I've photographed rugby, football, cricket, polo, rodeo, some remarkable sporting events. But today's episode is about one of my absolute favorites, Il Palio di Siena. For this episode I'm going to play a slideshow of photographs I've taken over the years and talk about what the Palio means to me as those images appear on screen. Please comment on the photographs and let me know your thoughts. If you're listening to the audio only version you'll hear the story but you'll miss the photographs themselves. So let's begin. I first visited Siena in 2014 and if I'm honest I'd never even heard of the Palio. As I wandered around the city I stumbled across a photographer's shop displaying incredible images of this extraordinary horse race. I stood looking at those photographs for quite some time. There was something astonishing about them. The energy, the colour, the emotion. I remember thinking that one day I'd have to come back, properly equipped with accreditation and the opportunity to photograph it for myself. Looking back now, that chance encounter changed everything because this event has completely captured my imagination. And if I'm honest, a piece of my heart as well. Additionally, I now consider Valentino, the shop owner, a friend. I've now attended the Palio three times as an accredited photographer. The first was in August, 2017. Then again in July, 2019. both on assignment for the Malta Times. Most recently I returned in August 2025. Every visit has been different. Every visit has taught me something new. And every visit left me wanting more. Before that first assignment, I thought I was traveling to Tuscany to photograph a horse race. What I discovered was something completely different. Because the Palio isn't really just about the race. The race itself barely lasts 90 seconds. The Palio is about community, tradition, identity, and a city that lives and breathes an event that means everything to its people. As they say in Siena, il Palio evita, the Palio is life. But one of the greatest gifts Siena has ever given me isn't just a photograph, it's a friendship. Over the years, I've been fortunate enough to build strong friendships within Contrada del Drago. Because of those friendships I've been welcomed into the Contrada and spent time with people who've patiently explained traditions. Things I would otherwise never have understood and I gained access to aspects of the Palio that many photographers never experience. That trust matters. The Paleo isn't a public spectacle designed for tourists. It belongs to the people of Siena. The Contradioli live it every day of the year, not just on race days. Because of those friendships, I've been able to spend time in places that reveal the real heart of the Paleo. The stables, the gatherings, the conversations, the quiet moments away from the crowds. Those experiences changed how I see the event and they change how I photograph it. Race Day actually begins surprisingly quietly. After days of singing, processions and anticipation, Sienna wakes with a different energy, a focused energy. The city knows what's coming and somehow you can feel it. The streets are already busy, the flags are everywhere, but underneath it all there is anticipation. An entire city is waiting for something because it is. One of the first major events of the day is mass for the Fantini. The jockeys gather alongside the captains and the prioress of the competing contrada. Overseen by the Bishop of Siena and the contrada priests, everybody understands what's at stake. Everybody knows what's waiting later in the afternoon. As a photographer, I found myself drawn to faces rather than events. You see concentration, expectation, responsibility. I remember standing there thinking, nobody was pretending, nobody is performing for the cameras. These are real emotions. And real emotions almost always make the strongest photographs. Then comes one of the oddities of the Palio. Immediately after the mass, there's one final trial or prova. One last rehearsal before race day truly begins. And almost nobody seems interested in it. It's known as the trial of indifference, which I think is a wonderful name. The earlier prova have already been analyzed and debated endlessly. By this point, minds are elsewhere. The horse has been selected. The Fantino has been chosen. The race is only hours away. Yet tradition continues. The horses run. The Fantini ride. The officials watch. And the piazza hosts one final rehearsal. I always find it strangely charming. A reminder that not everything in the Palio is driven by drama. Some things continue simply because they've always been done. And in Siena tradition matters enormously. Later comes one of the most moving moments of the entire day. The blessing of the horse and Fantino. Each contrada does things slightly differently. Some blessings take place inside churches. Others take place in locations that hold special meaning for the Contrada. But they all share one thing in common. They are deeply personal. These aren't performances. They're moments shared between the Contrada, the horse, the Fantino, the priest and the people who have invested so much emotion in the days leading up to the race. Through my friendships within Selva and Drago, I've been fortunate enough to witness moments like these. Standing amongst the contradioli, camera in hand, you realise you're not simply photographing an event. You're being trusted. And that is a privilege I never take lightly. The atmosphere changes completely. The noise disappears. Conversations stop. Everyone focuses on the horse, the rider and the priest. In August 2025, the horse appeared to kiss the crucifix as the priest presented it. and there was a murmur in the crowd. Was it a portent? And in that moment you realise just how much this race means. I think it's important to pause and say something else here. The Palio attracts visitors from around the world. Photographers, writers, tourists, people curious to experience something unique. That's wonderful, but we should always remember that we're guests. The stables, the blessings, the private contrada events, These aren't tourist attractions. They're part of the living culture of Siena. If you're fortunate enough to receive an invitation, embrace the experience and respect it. If you're not invited, respect that too. The Paleo survives because the people of Siena protect what matters most to them. As race day progresses, Siena begins to pulse. And that's the best word I can find, pulse. You hear drums long before you see them. Flags around every corner. Songs echo through the narrow streets. The city feels alive. Every street seems to be flowing in the same direction. The Piazza del Campo. There were moments when I lowered my camera and simply watched. Not because there weren't photographs to make. There were photographs everywhere. But because sometimes you need to experience a moment before you photograph. One of my favourite parts of the race day happens before the race itself. The procession to the Duomo. The displays of flag waving at various points in the city. The colours, the movement, the noise, the atmosphere. You can feel the honour and pressure the participants have. Honoured to represent their Contrada, but also the pressure that comes with it. Everywhere you look there's another photograph. Flag bearers, drummers. Members of the procession in medieval dress. Some of the armour is genuinely hefty and in the heat can take its toll. Children wearing their contrado colours. Older contradioli who have spent a lifetime living the Palio. It's impossible not to be captivated. In awe of it all, the Palio attracts people from every corner of the world. Politicians, photographers, writers, celebrities. When I attended in August 2025, one of those visitors was Madonna, who was there to celebrate her 70th birthday. I photographed Madonna and the entourage overlooking the piazza before the race. At many events, that would have been the headline, but Sienna has a way of putting everything into perspective. Even global celebrities become spectators. The focus always returns to the Contrario. The horse, the Fantino, the Tufo and the city itself. That tells you almost everything you need to know about the Paglio. Then comes the moment that everything changes. The mounted Carabinieri enter the Campo. There's a sharp intake of breath as they enter the track. And instantly the atmosphere shifts. The horses accelerate around the piazza. Carabinieri shouting at the tops of their voices. and thrusting their swords into the evening sky. The sound reverberates off centuries old buildings. The crowd erupts. Days of anticipation seem to release themselves in a single moment. The race is no longer something waiting in the future. The race has arrived. Even now I can remember standing there trying to decide whether to photograph it or simply watch it. Following the charge comes the Corte Osterico or historical procession and honestly no photograph can truly convey its scale. Hundreds of participants, traditional costumes, medieval costumes in the bright colors of the Contrade, flags, drummers, entourage, the horse led by a Barbaresco, the Fantino dressed in the Contrada finery, all 17 Contrade. even in those not competing. History everywhere. As photographers, we're often taught to simplify a scene. The Corte Osterico makes that almost impossible. Every direction reveals another story, another picture, another layer of Sienna's history. It's visually overwhelming and absolutely magnificent. Then comes the waiting. The horses gather. first nine line up. Everyone watches for the rincorsa. The horse that starts the race. The Fantino riding the rincorsa is suddenly everybody's friend. Ancient alliances are tested. Enemies look to gain advantage over their rivals. It's a game within a game and could cover many pages of a book. A false start. A reset. Another false start. Another reset. More waiting. The crowd grows restless and start shouting. More tension. The entire piazza seems to hold its breath. And then suddenly it begins. Three laps. Three extraordinary laps. After days of buildup and anticipation, the race itself is astonishingly short. Dust, noise, colour, chaos. As a photographer you stop thinking and start reacting. Instinct takes over. and before you fully process what's happened, it's over. But for me, the finish isn't the end, it's the beginning. The second the winning horse crosses the line, Contradioli jump onto the track and start to celebrate, making for the horse and Fantino, or for the Drapalone, the prize. Another Palio quirk is that even if the rider is unseated, the horse alone can win the race. But my favourite photographs aren't just from the race itself. They're from what comes after. The winning Contrada erupts. People cry. People embrace. People sing. People laugh. The Drapaloni is retrieved, ready to be taken to the Duomo or Church of Santa Maria and Provenzano. Years of hope, tradition and expectation are released in a single moment. These are the photographs that stay with me. Not because they're dramatic. but because they're real. Their photographs about belonging. Eventually the winning contrada escorts the horse and the Palio to the duomo or church. The celebrations continue. The atmosphere changes once again. The energy softens, the joy remains, and the city begins writing another chapter in its story. When I first arrived in Tiena in 2017, I thought I was there to photograph a horse race. Three visits later, I realized I was photographing something far more important. A community, a tradition, a city, and the people who care deeply about preserving something that has been part of their identity for centuries. What began as a photographic assignment became something much more personal. I have many friends there now. Fabrizio, Antonio, Claudio, Simone, Tommaso, Pete, and so on. People I look forward to seeing every time I return. And perhaps that's the real reason I keep going back. The photographs are wonderful. The race is extraordinary. But it's the people who stay with you. Il Paglio remains one of the most extraordinary events I've ever had the privilege to photograph. And one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life behind the camera. But this is just a brief insight to my experience of the Palio as a relative outsider. I could talk for days on this subject alone and it's a true passion. But make up your own mind, see the photographs, read my post on my website. Let me know what you think. Thank you for joining me on the pitch side eye. Next time I'll take you behind the scenes of the women's rugby world cup, including the experience of photographing the tournament from start to finish. I'm Simon King. I'll see you next time.