Trabajdores, Campo, Cuba, 2017

¡hermosos recuerdos del año 2017!

¡gracias a los trabajadores fuertes en el campo!

PS Negative exposed with a Hasselblad 503CW/100mm combination, the print toned in Selenium for permanence.

Etsy 

Facebook

Instagram 

Website

Tumblr 

Twitter 

Baker and Light Bulb, La Habana, Cuba, July, 2010

After we finished photographing a young girl a few meters away, we began walking around the corner to my friend's home. This man was sitting down on the sidewalk and holding an intact light bulb found in the garbage container on the corner.

He was shirtless and seemingly hanging out with a few of his friends. I had my 35 mm camera in hand and walked close enough to make this image of him with permission of course, concentrating on the light bulb as the point of focus. Only after focusing on the bulb itself through the viewfinder was it noticed that a reflection had formed, a reflection of me and my friend. In addition, the home of the girl photographed a few minutes earlier, a corner store previously, was our background. Perhaps six negatives were exposed and we thanked him before moving on to my friend's home.

Earlier this year I decided to print a few smaller negatives in the midst of my medium format printing. This negative was selected and printed to my delight, and has pushed me in the direction of street photography more so. Working with the smaller format is a liberating feeling and only compliments the larger format work.

Upon returning to the island this year the print was included in my album to show the people. The young boy, the brother of the girl photographed moments before this image was made, spoke this man's name and pointed out his work place. It turned out that this man was resting between shifts and that he worked as a baker in the corner bakery. His hands, rather than being covered with dirt, were covered with flour from his work place.

This image alone has taught me so much, from the lessons noted above to the idea that much more needs to be researched before forming an opinion regarding the person in an image. Rather than bringing a copy of his portrait to him, thinking he was anonymous, I was left without a second print to hand to him. In light of this predicament, the original print was removed from the album and handed to him. His sincere appreciation touched me deeply, deepened my understanding of the work itself.

Now every time we pass by the bakery I remember this man, and his light bulb.

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

Manos de los Trabajadores, La Habana, Cuba, Julio, 2011

I walk up to two men and ask to photograph their hands, the hands of working men my purpose. As a gesture to augment my limited language skills, my hands are extended as an example. The first man thrusts forth his hands in the same manner and a few images are made. In spite of people walking by and the presence of tourists throughout the city, he spares time from his day to accommodate my request.

The next man sitting is asked for the same and refuses in a nice manner. For the sake of understanding I politely ask for his reason. Rather surprised I learn that he would allow the picture but would rather put his hands in a different position. He explains to me that there are those whose preconceptions would affect their interpretation of the image, seeing the palms up as a sign of asking or begging for something, rather than the hands of a working man.

I am touched deeply by his explanation and by his willingness to continue with the photography despite my lack of vision. He puts his forearms on his knees and places his hands in a most gentle fashion in front of my camera.  We exchange a few words while photographing, shake hands and then part ways.

In one instant I was taught an incredible lesson, one that I will never forget. Here were two men, friends sitting on the same ledge, with much in common yet an entirely different way of looking at a similar request. I am humbled by the countless workers that make up our societies, real heroes willing to go unnoticed for the sake of their families and require nothing more than serenity for their children.

These are the hands that I would place my life in should that time ever come.

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

El Trabajador, On the Road to Pinar del Rio, Cuba, July of 2008

In my last few days on the island I decided to head out on my own to Pinar Del Rio. It seemed easy enough, nicely paved roads and neatly placed signs. Heading west from the hotel and without a map, the feeling was a mix of anxiety and excitement.

After getting out of the city, everything cleared up... the skies, the roads and the air. Every now and then I would stop and speak to a few men, ask their permission to make images. Without exception everyone agreed regardless of my limited Spanish at the time. On this occasion a group of workers were cutting the grass manually.

For a monthly salary equal to an average pair of pants, they are responsible for the grass on this stretch of highway. In addition to the work accomplished on their farms, they would come out in groups on certain times of the month and cut the grass. This of course is done under the grueling sun and during the hot months of the Caribbean, when the grass grows most quickly.

We went on to collaborate for perhaps thirty minutes, after which time I bid farewell to them and continued west. For me the rest of that day was easy, driving around in a car with the wind blowing, keeping me cool. I drove for a few more hours and then turned around to head back to the city.

All the time I couldn't help thinking that these men continued their work until the sun went down, then returned to their farms to do more of the same. I have a deep respect for these men and others like them, men toiling under the sun without rest and only with the hope of providing for their families.

For more of my work, please visit the newly designed website below, courtesy of Patrick Luu.

Halim Ina Photography

The Hands of a Working Man, Streets of Havana, Cuba, July of 2011

This year I hope to make images in a more spontaneous manner, like the image above.

While walking up and down the streets, opportunities are missed because we're walking to our next destination. The man with these hands was almost such a missed chance. On this day we walked a little more slowly, and recognized a mutual curiosity.

He was sitting with two other friends on a ledge in front of a home. They were taking a break from work, and watching people walking down the street. We talked a bit and then asked to make images of their hands. Each had their way of extending the hands, and this was his way.

Here they are, instruments he has used over the past five decades to support himself and his family. They extend from an unfocused background, like messengers from the past, and tell us their stories. The stains from under his fingernails are evidence of his creations, of his sweat.

I admire the working man and believe that this is the truest of heroes. He asks for nothing more than sustenance for him and his loved ones, and offers his hands as a sign of his humanity. He understood my desire to photograph his hands and allowed such to be done with only a smile on his face. I cannot express my gratitude fully when this is done on behalf of my work, I can only do my best to preserve the image for future generations.

For more of my work, and to contribute your thoughts regarding this project, please visit the newly designed website below, courtesy of Patrick Luu.

Halim Ina Photography

Bedouin Girl, An Alley with Wind, Bekaa Valley, Lebanon, Summer, 2005

In the beginning my work includes images with indirect light and darker backgrounds. This is certainly true of the early portraits from the Middle East. My inexperience at the time forces me to seek shaded areas and use any light available. Much of the time the results disappoint me, lead me to seek other avenues to produce images respectful of the subject matter.

On this one day a few children catch my attention while photographing a neighboring home. At this point my work in Lebanon is in its sixth year or so, and the people of this area have become accustomed to my camera. I talk to their parents and they allow me to make portraits of the children.

Looking up the alley from the main street, a three story apartment building is at the entrance to the left while a one story home is to the right. Further up is a small shed to the right that houses the livestock and another three story apartment building next to a home on the left. Then the alley ends in an open field. The alley is quite narrow, able to accommodate one large car at a time.

Over the years many portraits are made using the indirect light bouncing off of the larger buildings to the left. The result is a natural studio, with soft boxes to the left and various backgrounds to the right. For the portrait above the shed serves as the background. The young girl stands in front of a large window with only the bottom of the frame showing. The white shape behind her is the window to the back of the shed.

What makes this natural studio that much more incredible is the constant flow of air. On every occasion, the wind provides movement better than any fan could and is relentless. The result is that every exposure brings with it another composition.

This young girl is a Bedouin that has long since become a Lebanese citizen. Once migrants with livestock, now they live in concrete homes and tend to their sheep daily. The girls refrain from attending school and are responsible for the livestock. She and her younger sister walk the animals to graze all by themselves, and show a confidence most striking to a first-time viewer.

She is a tough, young girl... as is her sister as well. They take every bit of energy out of me when being photographed. They are extremey resilient and show remarkable fortitude. They cannot be pushed around and fend for themselves without reservation.They know that they have me at their disposal and that pleading for their portraits is most natural for me. At times it becomes a bit overwhelming... but has yet to keep me from asking. Last year I made the decision to only visit socially and allow a year to pass before asking for their portraits once again.

I hope to visit next summer and make their portraits once again. There is a slight chance that they will refuse, since they have become older and, in this most conservative Society, become less accepting of the image. Regardless they have given me more than I could have asked for already.

halim.ina@gmail.com
Halim Ina Photography

Caretaker of Trees, Banganga, Rajasthan, India, November 22, 2009

We spend the morning of my last day in Banganga, Rajasthan. This is a tradition that dates back to my first year in India.

The teacher from Humana People to People India and her sister look after me as a brother, serving two cups of tea rather than one and two servings of breakfast rather than one on this and every day. They do so even though they have very little, they do so with smiles reflecting the love they have for our collaboration, a love that is mirrored within me.

We arrive early this morning and it is very cold, forcing us to sit around a small fire for warmth. This small fire is cooking the meal for the buffalo nearby. According to the girls, each buffalo eats five kilograms of food per day, food that is cooked for them by the family with much care.

The sun begins to rise and, instead of walking over to the usual place, we decide to photograph at the teacher's home to show fairness. She smiles broadly and arranges the benches that will be used as backdrops. As it gets warmer, the girls of this school begin to arrive. The sun rises more and so does the temperature. We set up and begin with the photography.

In the middle of the session, two events occur, the result of the first is shown above. While making a portrait of his daughter, the father from the second home calls me to come over in an excited voice. He wants me to photograph a young boy who happens to be located about sixty feet or so up a tree.

We run closer to the tree and make the pictures, with this young boy pausing in the middle of his work to pose for us. It is a wonder that he can do so, for he is without shoes and using only a rope to keep himself from falling. I am told that this is his work, that this is how he supports his family, by going to different homes and asking to trim their trees.

This reminds me of a friend's words earlier this evening. Alyssa wrote these words in response to seeing earlier entries and has allowed me to include them here with all due respect to all parties described. She writes:

'If only each American could live a day in their shoes, away from the luxuries and technology that we are able to enjoy everyday... More of us would appreciate the simple things that we have an abundance of, yet they lack.'

This is the first time that my eyes have ever witnessed someone else doing any of the work in either one of these two homes. Every single time we have visited, the men were guaranteed to be working the fields and the women were guaranteed to be working around the home. We have never visited either one of these homes to see anyone sitting down, never. This is in spite of the fact that these two families have a sizable amount of land and even perhaps the humble means to bring someone to help with the land. I have a deep respect for the families, for their children.

We walk back to the photography and notice that one girl is missing even though we stopped by her parents' home the evening before to ask for their permission. We decide to send for her and she arrives for her portrait, a little sad that she almost missed her portrait. Regardless, her friends make the effort to help her smile and she does so ever so brilliantly. At times my lack of language in this land provides me with so many questions. I hope that the portrait when processed in four weeks time will answer my curiosity.

This day is spent without a translator. All seems clearer somehow.

Face, Metal Container, Havana, Cuba, 2008

Everywhere we walk we run across the work of this artist. He uses walls, garbage dumpsters and discarded metal containers to deposit his work.

People watch us as we arrange the tripod, they have a certain look: 'why is he interested in this?'

Most of the artist's pieces are a bit older, faded and cracking. They are nonetheless unmistakable as one person's work.

All throughout Havana, while much art exists on walls and so forth, most of it is associated with the established guidelines, celebrating the revolution and its principles.

This artist's work however sits outside.

During this capture, the temperature and humidity are almost unbearable. We spend perhaps about fifteen minutes arranging the tripod to capture different angles, since the face wraps around the sides of the container.

We are on the outskirts of Havana's Chinatown. We finish our work and head out to photograph more familiar faces.