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Book Intro
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Now, 64,000 photos and ten years later, my main concern is still to capture that sense of humanity, that timeless quality that all people share through love, laughter and tears. In that photo of a mother kissing a baby I had discovered a human similarity that could possibly break down the barrier of “otherness” between the world and myself. In that one second, however briefly, no cultural, political or ethnic differences could stop me from feeling connected with that mother and child. Through every photo from then on I tried to capture that aspect of humanity, each time bringing me closer to the realization that I could connect to people who are different than myself, that perhaps difference was not a good reason to dislike somebody.

Almost every morning for the rest of the summer I visited the old town to photograph and talk with the families. In the Roma of Ibiza town I had found another group who, although very different from my own, shared that same bittersweet feeling of ‘us vs. them.’ Like my family they lived on the edge of society. They too worked odd jobs, some on the beaches selling fruit, others in construction, others in the market, and yet others selling drugs. They too were looked down upon.

They too were harassed by the police. At summer’s end, I took a job as a photographer’s assistant in Madrid. A new world for me opened up when the owner of a Flamenco tavern invited me to photograph the artists who performed in his club. Since this tavern was not for tourists but for locals, and since Flamenco performers are largely Roma anyway, I found myself yet again among them. I photographed the drama of their songs and dance, as they played out stories of love and hardship in their music. Slowly my photography grew.

Trabzon, Turkey, 2000.

Then, in Paris, Columbia Records commissioned me to photograph one of their bands, the “Gipsy Kings,” at the yearly Roma gathering in Saint Marie De La Mere, Southern France, where thousands of Roma gather for a few days to pay homage to the local saint, and see friends and family. But here I wasn’t the only photographer, since the event drew press from around the world, many of them wanting to capture the exotic and stereotypical images of Roma, such as caravans and colorful dresses.

This made me question my own work. Was I doing the same? Looking back, I believe I did miss some opportunities to make a political statement, due to inexperience and a lack of an overall picture of the Roma situation. For example, I have no pictures of Roma doctors or lawyers, even though they exist, and to show them would break commonly held stereotypes. But at the time I was just taking pictures of what I could relate to, and I did not relate to doctors or lawyers.

After the job for Columbia Records I became disillusioned with the photography business and became a carpenter. Yet I still continued photographing Roma, working in construction for six months and then traveling the rest of the year taking photos.
The photos in this book are the end result of my efforts.

I do not know what use they are to the rest of the world, since I took them for myself and have hardly shown them to anybody. I do not even know if they help the Roma efforts in fighting racism and stereotyping. But I do know that they show the humanity in a people that are so often dehumanized. My experiences while taking the photos were genuine and heartening, showing me that I can connect to the world, and giving me the courage to smile at strangers.

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