Girl, Rain, Church, MACODEF, 2007

We arrive at the church just in time for the rains. For the next hour, the skies unleash a storm on the tin roof of this structure, producing a noise that drowns any possibility of a conversation between even the closest in the building. We just sit and look at each other, hoping that the rains will end soon. She holds onto her sister, both of them sitting to my left. She is the calmest of children, transferring that calm to her scared, younger sister. Her face is that of peace and kindness. Everyone wants the rain to end. In an hour it does. We step outside and gather ourselves, with me looking for the source of the light and a suitable background immediately. The spot is just outside of the door, next to some tall grass. The tripod is positioned low so as to allow the sky as a canvas for the subjects. With the film used, this means that the background just disappears during the exposure. She stands straight, looking toward the sun behind a thin layer of clouds, with her head up high, as calm now as she was inside the church. We make about ten exposures, this is the third one from the last exposure, her expression is unchanged between all ten. For her portrait as well as others associated with MACODEF, you may follow the links below:

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Two More Dancers, Havana, Cuba, 2008

So which one is more camera shy? Which one seems to want to hide from the camera?

When we first approach them, it seems to us that perhaps the darker gentleman is less shy, wants to be photographed more so. As the legs of the tripod dig into the sand, he begins to hide himself behind his friends. It is the dancer with the lighter skin that walks forward for his portrait first, without ever having met me before.

The camera is magical at times, a bridge across languages, cultures and borders. It allows two to speak without any of the aforementioned in common. We spend nearly two hours photographing, against the sky and on the hot sand.

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A farmer and a tree, Rural, Cuba, 2008

So we continue on the road east and run across a group of farmers. They allow us a conversation and we ask for their portraits. They agree without question and give us a few minutes from their day. He stands on a small block of concrete to allow me an angle with the sky as a background. He has worked on this land for his entire life, continues to do so without hesitation. After his portrait, he calls for his sons and we make their portraits also. We say our goodbyes and promise to return the following year with his portrait. That promise will be kept even when the attempt to return proves difficult. His name and the name of his friends are noted along with their addresses. Then we come across a tree, one that all three of us want to photograph. We have different cameras and want to compare our interpretations the following year. We each make our exposures and then switch cameras with each other. We will meet next year and see. We get back into the car and head back to Havana, Cuba.

On the road, Havana, Cuba, 2008

With one day left on the rental car, after driving to the furthest eastern point of the island, a decision is made to get in the car by myself and drive to the furthest western part of the island. Getting in the car is easy and heading in the opposite direction of the morning sun easier. The road is filled with people waiting for a ride, some on public transportation and some in the cars of strangers. The thought of transporting a family further down the road enters my mind at every crossroad. Seeing a single person in a car without anyone else seems foreign to all on the road, as interpreted by me from their facial expressions. Neglecting to pick up a family is based on the need to keep my presence on the island from under the microscope of the authorities, having run into an official a bit earlier on the road. Nonetheless, every crossing proves to be a difficult experience, without exception. Billboards are everywhere, with slogans and statements supporting the movement. They stand alone, like signs frozen in time. Alongside these same roads men are seen with blades, cutting the grass. They are assigned to a certain portion of the road. They work under the hot sun, for ten hours a day, manually cutting the grass for a monthly wage of $20. A few allow me to photograph them while working. Then along comes a young made asking for my help. He tells me that his car is broken, about 100 meters from my car. He tells me that he needs a ride to the next exit. He steps away for a second to check on his car. At that moment, the men take a break from cutting the grass and warn me regarding this young man, telling me that his approach is a scam. They tell me to be careful. Here are these men, working for a wage that compares to perhaps three hours of minimum wage in the States, caring enough to warn me about their fellow comrade. They prove to me as correct my decision to drive alone to the western part of this island. We separate saying our goodbyes and they continue on the road with their work.