Oliena is an idyllic village on the island of Sardinia. It's a picture of peace and quiet, with medieval streets, fertile vineyards, and mountains beyond. But when photographer Mattia Michelli visited, he had to stuff cigarette filters in his ears to muffle all the gunfire. It was Easter, and around 200 locals celebrated by firing pistols and rifles into the sky.

“Hot little pieces of ammunition were falling from the sky onto my t-shirt,” says Micheli. “I got really scared, and when I’m really scared, I start laughing. It was weird.”

It was one of several surreal scenes Micheli captured in Friendly Fire. The series documents gun ownership in Italy, from western-themed shooting ranges to taxidermy-filled trophy rooms. "I wanted to challenge my idea of something I didn’t know," he says.

Italy has a small but thriving gun culture, with approximately 5 percent of the population owning some 10 million firearms. It's headquarters for iconic gun brands like Beretta and Benelli, and exported more than $500 million worth of small arms in 2013 — more than any other country except the US. The government requires a license to purchase a gun, limits how many you can own, how much ammunition you keep, and prohibits automatic and many semi-automatic firearms. However, most Italian citizens who wish to own a gun can.

Micheli's only fired a gun once (and it was an air gun), and was terrified by his grandfather's hunting rifle as a child. He decided to explore his fear in 2014, after meeting a friend of a friend who was shot multiple times by a close relative. Over the next two years, Micheli documented more than 30 gun-related locations and events. He hung out at shooting ranges, gun fairs, historical reenactments, and an out-of-commission arms factory. He also met and photographed gun owners through social media, chatting with them about their hobby. Some just liked to blow off steam. Others were into hunting like their fathers and grandfathers. "It's part of the old way of life," Micheli says.

He photographed it all on a Hasselblad. The images are quietly humorous and disconcerting, painting a picture of Italy that doesn't align with the postcard scenery most people—even some Italians—think of. “Everyone asks me, ‘When did you go to the United States?’” he says. “They’re surprised to hear I’ve never been. I’d like to go—though not to take pictures of guns.”