Intercepting those storms would often lead me to very rural towns in Virginia. As I traveled the back roads in pursuit of some killer cloud-to-ground bolts, I would pass hordes of derelict houses on the side of the road. The more I would see these places, the more intrigued I became by them. I eventually became tantalized to the point of stopping on the side of the road to photograph them. I was primarily drawn to their mood and texture, and secondarily to their mystery. I would think to myself, “What happened here… who lived here?” or “Why did it go abandoned?”

Despite that initial desire to find answers and quench my thirst for information, I instead started an Instagram account and began posting away. As the years passed, I quickly became aware that there was an entire subculture of enthusiasts that photographed urban and rural decay. This platform became the catalyst for me to dive deep into this hobby, while creating many personal and virtual friendships. To this day, I still explore with many of these individuals.

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As the years passed and the online collection grew, I became disenfranchised with the superficiality of the ‘like’ button on IG. It no longer was satisfying to me. This passion quickly became much deeper in scope. These places became important to me. Despite their grotesque exteriors, I knew that they once provided valuable shelter and memories to many families. If those walls could talk, there would be many an unbelievable story to be told. I set out to get the backstories as my own personal “Virginia History” mission. I would find these places in a number of ways… using aerial maps to search for rusted roofs and the absence of mailboxes; interrogating the local firemen; interviewing loggers; engaging patron at local diners; and loitering in gas stations.

What I discovered was completely contradictory to my initial expectations. Not only were these rural Virginians accommodating to strangers, but they would go above and beyond to help me. I quickly found out that once I expressed an interest in their community, and they realized my intentions were benign, all they wanted to do was help me accomplish my goal of finding more places and sharing their accompanying stories. I can’t count how many times I have been invited into their homes, fed meals, and become privy to their dusty boxes of pictures that they’ve pulled from the attic – all filled with vintage pictures of these places, and the people that once occupied them. These pictures and stories gave me closure. This hobby suddenly became very intrinsically fulfilling.

As my social media following grew, and my community reputation spread, the next logical step was to create a photographic book to commemorate these beautifully abandoned places. Two years later, “A Beautifully Broken Virginia” was launched, and the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts added me as an adjunct faculty speaker to their Statewide Partners program. This sent me all around the state to lecture about my findings. This was the “crack in the dyke” that was needed. Owners of long abandoned decaying homes came out of the woodwork to share their stories with me, many of whom lived in the very houses that were published in my book. I would feverishly take notes as these elderly people reminisced, and my portfolio of fascinating stories became wide and deep.

I began a private speaking tour around the state called “Stories of an Abandoned Virginia” and ventured into the world of public speaking, sharing the very stories that were shared with me. These speaking engagements were accompanied by a highly visual slide presentation. My initial venues were local libraries. That escalated into art museums, and eventually large theaters. It was at this point I realized that there are thousands of others that share the same passion for abandoned places, and the stories that occurred within those walls.

As odd and as unique as it may sound, the sentiment for these places is widespread. I realized that the imagery of these places often elicits a very powerful emotion – often of sadness or intrigue. That emotion is intensified when the image is of an abandoned interior of a home, or a church, or a school.  

Hundreds of my discoveries have been of just that – fully furnished homes, untouched for decades. It’s like walking into a time capsule. I find rooms full of original furniture, closets full of clothes, family and wedding photos, vintage newspapers and magazines, eyewear, prescription medication, and more. When stepping inside of these places, you become PART of them, and can temporarily fantasize about what life was like for each of them.

My discoveries are not limited to houses. Old churches are my favorite. I’ve found well over 100 abandoned churches alone in the state of Virginia, and I’ve only covered about 10% of the state. Hymnals are often left in the pews, a dusty Bible remains on the pulpit, and cobwebs cover the holy water dispensers. There are also hundreds of abandoned schools that pepper the countryside, many of which are highly historical in nature (note Rosenwald Schools). The floors are covered with old report cards; moldy student health records sit in piles in the corner; and old vintage desks and accompanying textbooks are still neatly organized in front of the chalkboard. Insane asylums are the best! …and by far the creepiest. Interior discoveries in these old asylums have included surgical equipment, hydrotherapy tubs with canvas restraints, derelict morgues, and patient records. I have also found thousands of old rust bucket vehicles in the woods, several vintage diners, and even an abandoned rural library in the woods!

Despite the visual sensationalism of these finds, I have grown to appreciate the stories behind them much more than just the images alone. If it wasn’t for the friendly demeanor and accommodating attitudes of my fellow Virginians, none of this would have been possible. I now spend most of my weekends delivering public tours of the field of abandoned Presidents Heads (on hold for COVID reasons). This has been not only a tremendous learning opportunity for me, but an educational opportunity for the thousands of others that have visited. I’ve also partnered with the landowner of the highly historic Belmead on the James property for the purpose of conducting tours. The property includes a beautifully decaying mansion that was built by a Civil War general, and an abandoned girls school that was created by a philanthropist from Philadelphia. She donated her inherited fortune to advance the educational initiatives of Native and African American students.

Humans have a subconscious obsession with a sense of place. When it is manifested in old abandoned structures, it can be a very powerful emotion. I plan to continue to bring these places and their stories to the general public, not just to properly commemorate them, but with the ultimate goal of getting Americans to develop a deeper appreciation for their past. I am not sure when or how this journey will end, but I sure am enjoying the ride.

John Plashal is from Richmond, VA

Romania was heavily industrialized during its 40+ years under communism. Every town had an industrial centre and people were moved all over the country to these areas to work in the mines and factories. During the transition to a market economy, these mono-industrial areas have been left adrift, without a long-term plan of re-conversion.

Ioana Cîrlig, Romania

Born in Montreal in 1984, Weitzman studied business and worked in real estate for a decade before becoming interested in photography. This interest quickly developed into a passion for the medium, and a powerful way for him to apprehend the world and his relationships with others. His investigation of the photographic language in an ongoing one.

Opening Reception Thursday, September 18, 2013 at Galerie Espace, Montréal.

Jordan Weitzman is a photographer living Montréal, Canada.

This project was created with the same spirit that America was founded on. Our intentions are to connect everyone in america through the lens of this camera and social networking sites. We can’t do this without you. We want to tell your story and show your city or town through photographs of you, and people you know. As we travel around america looking for people and places to shoot you will be able to keep track of where we are going and help us decide where we go next. Join us in our journey by liking our facebook to get yourself photographed by us.

An extra special thanks to Brandon Rein, Scotty Hoffman and Trevor Atwater.

If you like this video, then check out the next chapter, American Dream.

Ian Ruhter is from Los Angeles, CA.

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I see the flight of childhood innocence grounded by the scars of life hard lived, the strength of a single man while acknowledging the machine that replaced thousands, a fist of power born from the chains that bound it, a living room tribute to a symbolic president, and a toppled white king in a conquered game of chess. These representations of racial struggle and its social and economic achievements are reminders of the story of Mound Bayou, Mississippi. Founded in 1887 it is America’s oldest African American settlement.

“Why stagger at the difficulties that confront you,” proclaimed its founder, Isaiah T. Montgomery, as he strove to ignite his men in their first year. “Have you not for centuries braved the miasma and hewn down forests at the command of your master? Can you not do it for yourselves and your children unto successive generations, that they may worship and develop under their own vine and fig tree?”

These words took the dreams of enslaved generations and turned them into a reality filled with bankers, doctors, and lawyers. Booker T. Washington and President Theodore Roosevelt heralded the town as being a “shining example of black achievement.” Though, while it once basked in the American Dream, its present day economic decline – like that of many agriculturally-based Delta towns – has long threatened to overshadow its past.

It is this duality of triumph and decline, and the simple beauty of daily life that exists in between its fabric, that draws me to Mound Bayou and to the villages of the greater Delta. But this is not a story solely centered upon the region’s plight. It is a celebration in faith and perseverance, one that’s chorus is sung in every clapboard church across its land.

“By and by, when the morning comes,

When the saints of God are gathering home.

We will tell the story how we’ve overcome,

We will understand it better by and by”

As economies crawl, walk, pace, and sprint toward development their strides are perched upon the backbones of men. It is the marrow of those bones – the vibration of that spirit – that drives the citizens of Mound Bayou and those of the greater Delta to endure. And it is this collective spirit that I seek to evoke in my work.

Brandon Thibodeaux (b. 1981) is a photographer based in Dallas, Texas, who creates portraits in the documentary tradition. In addition to his assignment work and creative commissions, he explores life in the American south. He is a member of the photography collective MJR, based in New York City.

Awards and Accolades:

Center Awards: Review Santa Fe, 2012

Magenta Foundation: Flash Forward, US Winner, 2012

Oxford American: 100 Under 100,New Superstars of Southern Art 2012

FotoWeek DC: 1st Place, Portrait, 2011

Michael P. Smith Fund for Documentary Photography: Finalist, 2011

LOOKbetween Featured Artist: Charlottesville, VA, 2010

Getty Reportage Emerging Talent: 2009-10

Eddie Adams Workshop XIX: Jeffersonville, NY, Alumnus, 2006

Brandon Thibodeaux lives in Dallas, TX.

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This selection of images is a brief look within these documented lives. Lives lived in the U.K. Lives lived in the now. Lives lived within times of much change. As the cultural, political and economic landscape changes these stories depict the final destination for the results of many of those high up and far away decisions and influences. These images depict the full stop of the Welfare State cuts, Housing Benefit cuts, Health cuts, loopholes and failures of systems and what happens when the heart of a community is slowly eroded. These images also depict the lives of those hanging on, bowed yet not broken, of lives where a fight to survive is very real. Fighting apathy, addiction, fighting loneliness, illness all the while clinging to self respect, adrift in the community, in life, but not yet lost.

Your community is exactly that, yours. Everyone has their story. I hope you’ll make time to visit the Small Town Inertia site and read the interviews and testimony of the people that have given so much to appear in these images, their stories are all that count.

Jim Mortram lives in Dereham, East Anglia, UK.

I just have to look… children are creative… you just need to be there waiting for things to happen in the frame and click.

Today my children are moving and playing in their own environment. Their spontaneous behaviors are my privileged motives. My photography looks like a kind of daily diary.

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If there is emotion, the picture is good… even if it is a little bit fuzzy or poorly framed. In my opinion that’s not a problem. Emotions may arise from ordinary situations… from little things referring to ourselves. That’s why family as a photography subject is constantly renewing itself.

I like the expression people tell me on the internet, that my photos are Street Family. I’m quite fascinated by street photography (see HCSP group on Flickr). It isn’t something I can practice because I live in the countryside, but I find my work quite close to this spirit there.

There are similarities in the crude side and spontaneous situations photographed. These are pieces of life that transcribe a certain reality.

 Alain Laboile is a sculptor living in Arbis, France.

EW:  Are people who absolutely reject darkness more dangerous?

RB:  It is an interesting point. The term darkness is a complex one. There is the physical one when you turn off the light, but it can also convey the idea of the unknown, connotate evil or mean severe depression. In a Jungian way, I see it as the Shadow, the unknown and repressed part of the Self people fear and leave out. Conflicts, war, social and political problems manifest themselves as a result of people being unaware of who they are and dealing with their repressions. Greater awareness and a psychological revolution are needed in the world. Most people do not understand such sophisticated concepts and need education to realize.

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EW:  Do you think that your photographs help viewers to understand a bit more of their Shadow?

RB:  I have come to the conclusion that the more the individual struggles to deny the work, the more it has ultimately impacted on him. If excessive repression inhibits inner realization, it does not mean that the image will not have an impact on the viewer’s psyche.

EW:  There is also a fine line between what we fear and what is captivating…

RB:  Fear is part of the basic consciousness of the organic living beings on the planet, a natural instinct and perhaps one of the most important protective ones. Even a mosquito probably feels fear. Existential and physical one are not the same. Existential related issues are basic and shared by most people whether they are aware of them or not : fear of death, of not being able to cope, of the unknown, of getting sick, of not achieving one’s life’s goals.

EW:  What do you fear?

RB:  Like everybody else I think, I fear not living anymore.

EW:  And all what we do will disappear… it is just a matter of time, and still, we have to continue…

RB:  Taking pictures is like a diary to me, a way of expressing who I am over long periods of time. It helps solidify my life experiences, defines moments over time for me. To me, pictures are like shooting stars crossing the night sky, a revelation of lightning truth. I do not think the human being is really able to fully appreciate cosmic time or timelessness, in any ways. We cannot even think in these terms.

EW:  Was the death of your mother a pivotal moment?

RB:  I have always been very existentially focused, driven and aware, even prior to my mother’s death. I studied psychology and was part of the counter culture during the late 60’s and early 70’s. People at that time tried to become aware of themselves, of the cultural brainwashing and were looking at the human experience in a more philosophical and humanistic way. To have experienced such a unique time in history impacted me as much as her death.

EW:  You did not show your work for a long time, do you feel that to be hidden allowed you to develop in a deeper way?

RB:  Yes. I was working as a geologist in South Africa and did not see photography as a profession. Also, people were not interested in what I was doing, nobody wanted to sell or buy photographs, so I did not have to worry about showing, impressing people or making a living out of it. I developed a deeply passionate personal relation with photography. One of the most crucial things in my development is how very little contemporary influences I have had.

EW:  It seems sometimes that the more we watch other people’s work, the less personal ours becomes…

RB:  I agree with you. Too much of other people’s voices sometimes make you unable to hear your own. You have to find your very own voice to be able to enter the forest and to open up a new path. Now, the more I look at people’s photographs, the more I despair because most try too much to find messages in other people’s visions instead of turning inward to find their own. To be creative I feel you have to go through the dark periods to reach the light. I also always explain to the students that photography is maybe the most difficult and competitive business in the world to make a living. Daily on the planet, maybe three hundred million photographs are taken, and as an artist you have to separate yourself from that with a unique, meaningful, and creative vision. It is a difficult task and 1% make a living out of it while 99% cannot survive as artists.

EW:  When you took pictures of Selma Blair, you mentioned that she was not afraid of putting a rat in her mouth and that you need such kind of people. Where do you find most such state of innocence? Did you also try to work with people who are afraid of you or photography itself?

RB:  Afraid people don’t feel natural. The best pictures arise when, like a good actor, the subjects forget about the stage and embody the character they are supposed to become. Most of the people I have worked with in South Africa probably have no real conception of what I am trying to capture or how the camera could possibly transform them, therefore I think the issue of them fearing it does not exist. I think that if I watched carefully other subjects who might have more sophisticated masks, I would still catch that state of being that I am known for. I have always said to people, “All things being equal, I could put you in my book.”

I found that the most difficult people to photograph are usually old ladies, they are very self-conscious. The easiest are children and animals. Trees might even be easier (laughing). The interesting challenge with animals is to try to interpret their interaction with the space, the inherent meaning they bring. Finally, the birds I work with have their own complications, flying nervously, biting people and escaping through the window ! It is easier to ask somebody to sit on a chair and look at the ceiling.

EW:  If people were too self-conscious, then you would not be able to project on them who you are and what you try to find anymore?

RB:  You are right about absence of self-consciousness, but it does not mean I can find myself in them either.

EW:  Were you born with highly developed social skills or are you naturally shy and overcame it?

RB:  It is an interesting point. I think that I was inherently introverted and shy the first 30 years of my life. I certainly got over a lot of that the last 10-15 years, giving hundreds of talks and interviews.

EW:  You recently directed the video for the song I Fink U Freeky by Die Antwoord, and it has been a huge success, extending in a new way that creative vision of yours. Do you plan to be a video recidivist?

RB:  I will probably make some new videos over the next years, yes.

EW:  Is there a movie remaining in your mind more than others?

RB:  I admire Persona by Ingmar Bergman. I like Bergman’s films because he used the same actors, worked in very small constructed spaces and his images are very clear, with deep psychological meanings. I feel a connection because I work with people in claustrophobic spaces year after year.

EW:  About such depths, deep inside I feel that I will never understand what I try to understand and that one day I will be old and still ignorant (laughing)…

RB:  And when we look at the stars… do we understand? Nothing. And it is fine, there is nothing wrong with that (laughing).

EW:  What makes you feel peaceful?

RB:  Just being in nature, I think. If I am in a nice, beautiful, quiet place in the mountains, forest or near the sea, then I think it is when I feel the best. When I was younger, I used to do a lot of diving. I like going in the water, looking at the fish.

EW:  Again, you need to go under the surface…

RB:  To dive in water, it is like going into your mind (smile).

Una conversación entre Eva Wolleberg y Roger Ballen

EW:  ¿Las personas que rechazan totalmente la oscuridad son más peligrosas?

RB:  Es una pregunta interesante. El término oscuridad es bastante complejo. Existe como término físico, cuando uno apaga la luz, pero también transmite lo desconocido, connota lo malvado o significa la posibilidad de caer en una depresión profunda. Desde la perspectiva Junguiana, la interpreto como la Sombra, lo desconocido, el rincón reprimido del sî mismo que la gente teme y aparta. Los conflictos, la guerra, los problemas sociales y políticos se manifiestan a consecuencia de la falta de consciencia de quién se es y de lidiar con la represión. Se necesitan una mayor consciencia y una revolución psicológica en el mundo. La mayoría de la gente no entiende tales conceptos tan sofisticados y necesitan educarse para darse cuenta.

EW:  ¿Piensas que tus fotografías ayudan a los espectadores a entender un poco más sobre sus propias Sombras?

RB:  He llegado a la conclusión que el individuo; cuanto más lucha por rechazar la obra, más impacto le ha dejado. Si bien, la represión excesiva inhibe el desarrollo de la autoconciencia, eso no implica necesariamente que la imagen no tendrá un impacto en la psiquis del espectador.

EW:  También hay una delgada línea entre lo que tememos y lo cautivante…

RB:  El temor es parte de la conciencia de los organismos vivos en el planeta, un instinto natural y tal vez uno de los que más nos protege. Quizá hasta un mosquito sienta miedo. Pero no es lo mismo el temor físico que el existencial. Los asuntos relacionados a lo existencial son primordiales y los comparten todos los seres humanos, sean o no, conscientes de ello; el miedo a la muerte, a poder afrontar la realidad, a lo desconocido,  a caer enfermo, el temor a  no lograr conquistar las metas de una vida.

EW:  ¿A qué le temes?

RB:  Como todos los demás pienso que temo dejar de vivir.

EW:  Y todo lo que hacemos va a desaparecer… es solo cuestión de tiempo, y así y todo debemos continuar…

RB:  Sacar fotos es como un diario para mí, una manera de expresar quién soy durante largos periodos de tiempo. Me ayuda a consolidar mis experiencias en la vida, y con el tiempo define momentos para mí.
Me parece que las imágenes son como estrellas fugaces cruzando el cielo nocturno; una revelación de verdad luminosa. Yo no creo que el ser humano es capaz de apreciar totalmente el tiempo cósmico, lo intemporal en ninguna de sus formas. No podemos ni pensar en esos términos.

EW:  ¿La muerte de tu mamá fue un momento crucial para ti?

RB:  Siempre he estado enfocado, motivado y conciente respecto a lo existencial, incluso antes de la muerte de mi madre. Estudié psicología y fui parte de la contracultura a finales de los ´60 y principios de los ´70. En esa época la personas buscaban ser más conscientes de si mismas y de la cultura que nos sometía. Perseguían la experiencia humana de una manera  más filosófica y humanista. El haber sido parte de ese momento tan singular en la  historia me impactó tanto como la muerte mi madre.

EW:  No mostraste tu trabajo por un largo período de tiempo, ¿sientes que el haber estado escondido te permitió desarrollarte de una manera más profunda?

RB:  Sí. Yo estaba trabajando como geólogo en Sudáfrica, y no veía la fotografía como una profesión. La gente tampoco estaba interesada en lo que yo estaba haciendo, nadie quería vender o comprar fotografías, así que no me tenía que preocupar de mostrar, impresionar a alguien o vivir de ello. Desarrollé una relación personal con la fotografía profundamente apasionada. Una de las cosas mas cruciales en mi desarrollo fué cuán poca influencia contemporánea tuve.

EW:  A veces parece que cuanto más miramos la obra de los demás, menos personal se vuelve la nuestra…

RB:  Estoy de acuerdo. A veces demasiadas voces ajenas nos hacen incapaces de escuchar las nuestras. Uno tiene que encontrar su propia voz para poder entrar en el bosque y acceder a un nuevo pasaje. Ahora, cuanto más miro las fotografías de otra gente,  más pierdo la esperanza porque la mayoría se esfuerzan demasiado por encontrar mensajes en las visiones de otras personas en vez de volver a sí mismos para encontrar la propia. Para ser creativo siento que tienes que pasar por períodos de oscuridad para alcanzar la luz. También, siempre les explico a mis estudiantes que vivir de la fotografía tal vez sea la empresa mas difícil y competitiva. Día a día en todo el planeta se sacan probablemente más de trescientos millones de fotografías. Y como artista tienes que separarte de todo ello con mediante una visión que sea original, significativa y creativa. Es una ardua tarea, sólo el 1% vive de ello, mientras el 99% restante no logra sobrevivir como artista.

EW:  Cuando tomaste la foto de Selma Blair, contaste que ella no tenía miedo de ponerse una rata en la boca y que tú necesitas ese tipo de personas. ¿Dónde encuentras esos estados de inocencia? ¿Alguna vez intentaste trabajar con personas que te tuvieran miedo a ti o a la fotografía misma?

RB:  Cuando las personas tienen miedo pierden naturalidad. Las mejores fotografías surgen cuando, como un buen actor, los fotografiados se olvidan del escenario y personifican el papel que les toca interpretar. La mayor parte de las personas con las que trabajé en Sudáfrica probablemente no tenían una clara idea de lo que yo intentaba capturar o de cómo la cámara probablemente podría transformarlos, por lo tanto el asunto del temor no existía. Creo que si mirara detenidamente otros personajes que pudieran tener máscaras más sofisticadas, aún así podría captar ese estado del ser por el cual soy conocido. Siempre le he dicho a la gente, si las cosas siguen igual, podría ponerte en mi libro.

Me he dado cuenta que las personas mas difíciles de fotografiar generalmente son las mujeres mayores, debido a que son muy cohibidas. Los más fáciles son los niños y los animales. Los árboles podrían ser más fáciles todavía (risas). El reto interesante con los animales es tratar de interpretar su interacción con el espacio, el sentido inherente que traen. Finalmente, los pájaros con los que trabajo tienen sus complicaciones, vuelan nerviosamente, pican a la gente y escapan por la ventana. Es más fácil pedirle a alguien que se siente en una silla y que mire al techo.

EW:  Si las personas fueran muy cohibidas, entonces ¿ya no podrías ser capaz de proyectar en ellas lo que eres y lo que tratas de encontrar?

RB:  Tienes razón en cuanto a la ausencia de cohibición, pero eso tampoco implica que yo no pueda proyectarme en ellos.

EW:  ¿Naciste con una fuerte capacidad de relacionarte o eres esencialmente tímido y pudiste superarlo?

RB:  Es una pregunta interesante. Yo creo que fui inherentemente introvertido y tímido los primeros 30 años de mi vida, y seguramente superé bastante de eso en los últimos 10-15 años, dando cientos de charlas y entrevistas.

EW:  Recientemente dirigiste el video de la canción I fink U Freeky de Die Antwoord, y ha sido un enorme éxito; extendiendo tu visión creativa en una nueva dirección. ¿Planeas convertirte en un videasta reincidente?

RB:  Probablemente haga algunos videos más en los próximos años, sí.

EW:  ¿Existe alguna película dando vueltas en tu cabeza más que otras?

RB:  Admiro Persona de Ingmar Bergman. Me gustan las películas de Bergman porque utilizaba siempre los mismos actores, trabajaba en espacios muy pequeños, y sus imágenes son muy claras; con un profundo significado psicológico. Siento una conexión porque trabajo con personas en ambientes claustrofóbicos año tras año.

EW:  Acerca de tales profundidades; dentro de mi, siento que nunca voy a comprender lo que intento comprender y que un día seré vieja y todavía ignorante. (riendo)

RB:  Y cuando miramos a las estrellas… ¿acaso comprendemos? Nada. Y está bien, no hay nada malo en ello. (riendo)

EW:  ¿Qué te hace sentir en paz?

RB:  Creo que, sólo estar en la naturaleza. Si estoy en un lindo y tranquilo lugar en las montañas, en el bosque o cerca del mar entonces creo que es cuando mejor me siento. Cuando era joven hacía mucho buceo. Me encanta estar bajo el agua, mirando los peces.

EW:  De nuevo, necesitas ir bajo la superficie…

RB:  Bucear en el agua, es como ir hacia tu mente (sonrisa).

Translation by Vero Somlo and Alynn Guerra.

Reportage and portrait clients:
The New York Times, The Financial Times, Newsweek, The Guardian, Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, Elle.

Fashion editorials clients:
Vogue Italia, A, Il -IlSole24Ore.

Corporate/advertising clients:
Giorgio Armani, Campari, Pirelli, L’Oreal, , Longines, Moroccanoil, Simonetta Ravizza, I Spirit Vodka, Veet.

Awards:
IPA, International Photography Awards. Best Advertising Calendar 2010. 1st prize. Campari.

NPPA, National Press Photographer’s Association. Best Of Photojournalism 2010, the Art of Entertainment. 3rd prize. “the backstage diaries”.

WPGA, the Pollux award 2010. Fashion portfolio. 1st prize. “the backstage diaries”.

Filippo Mutani is from Milan, Italy.

One of the most controversial love story ever told… the story of Tira and Gunawan.

Tira was a pre-op 48 years old transgender disfigured by repeated surgical operation, Gunawan an outcast street boy with no family and no job to hold to. Both were living in Muslim Indonesia, and struggling through an uneasy life made of poverty, HIV, desires, carnality, sadness, abandonment, alcohol, religion, love and mortality.

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They met each other many years ago while working on the streets of Jogiakarta, Central Java, and since then they shared everything—their dwelling, their pains, their hopes… their illnesses.

They lived in a squatted courtyard near an airport, just off a very busy junction, battling everyday through poverty, inequality, abuses, intolerance and sickness, but still managing to taste blissful moments of tenderness and glances of happiness.

However the connection between love and death, here is a constant—Gunawan is aware of Tira’s HIV but he has unprotected sex with her. He stopped minding about it and gave himself up to the consequences. ‘I let God decides’ he once told me. This could be seen as an act of idiocy or as the ultimate act of love. However I don’t think anyone has the right to judge it.

To enter Tira and Gunawan’s world is to enter a place where there are no anchors, no comparisons, and no judgements. Among all the drama and pain, their existence is a solemn proclamation to the true meaning of love. Their life also questions our meaning of beauty and the male-female gender binary system upon which our societies are built.

During one of the first meetings, Tira told me: “Luca, people don’t know what I am, and they don’t want to know… they just stop at the entrance and stay there, staring… staring at the surface.”

I had the privilege to enter Tira and Gunawan’s world, and to go beneath the surface, to a world made of pain, joy, intolerance, poverty, scars, prostitution, mortality and God. It was not an easy life, but it was one where Tira and Gun still managed, among all the drama, to retain a joie de vivre. In that small space that they call their home, it doesn’t matter if people don’t see them or can’t accept who they have become, because in that four square meter microcosm, they can be themselves.

There the claustrophobia loses its confinement and becomes an endless reach. Life in those four square meters was devoured savagely.  They fought, played, ate, enjoyed, loved, sang, prayed, danced, had sex and got drunk. That was the real world. Everything else that was happening outside was only a background chatter.

Their drama is touchable. You can smell it, hear it, feel it.

My Dearest Javanese Concubine is the story of that drama… a story where people who are seen as marginalized misfits become modern heroes—heroes who have struck a pathway through what we regard as normal and accepted—a love story that shows us that love can be a bond that rises against everything.

—In memory of Tira Yohanes Soepomo, October 17, 1967—May 31, 2011

—Assistants: Andy Aw, Rulli Mallai

Although Jogiakarta is known as a fairly tolerant city, the transgenders still have to face a great degree of problems and struggles, primarily for economic sustenance. The majority of them unfortunately end up working as prostitutes because they clearly have no other choice, but also those that have established businesses are forced once in a while to resource from escorting and prostitution.

This causes a strings of serious concerns, above all for HIV. In fact, it is customary that the punters demand no condoms and that the transgenders find themselves torn between losing a client and maintaining their personal health. It’s a choice that most of the time is driven by their need for money.

In the city of Jogiakarta there are 228 transgenders and most of them are Muslims, and 31 are registered as HIV positive.  There are associations like Ponpes Al-Fatah Waria and Kebaja that actively inform their members of the HIV consequences and precautions.

Ponpes Al-Fatah Waria is the first ever Islamic School for transgenders. Waria is an Indonesian term for transgendered people. It’s derived from the words wanita (woman) and pria (man). The school does weekly teachings and prayer free of charge for the local warias. They are taught and directed by two local Imams.

Luca Desienna is an award-winning photographer based in London. He received many awards such as the Px3 People’s Choice Award in 2010, 1st Prize Winner at Simulacrum Photo Contest judged by Richard Billingham, 1st Prize MEET MY WORLD photo contest and an official selection at VOIES Off 2011. In addition he was shortlisted for the Photographers’ Master Cup, he received an Honorable Mention at the 2011 LENS CULTURE Exposure Awards and the Spider Black and White Award 2008, he was also selected as a finalist at the Best of Photography Annual 2008, and shortlisted for the 2008 Travel Photographer of The Year.

His photography appeared in magazines such as The British Journal of Photography, Vanity Fair, Intelligence in Lifestyle, Kult Magazine, Vanidad, Genis Aci, Eyemazing, No Name, a-n, Gomma, XL, VICE and Time Out.

He exhibited throughout Europe and has taken part in numerous art fairs and collective exhibitions, including the FOTO8 Summer Show and the Padova Art Fair. In addition he was juror of various awards, such as the Photolucida Critical Mass and the Crestock Photo Contest. Among his recent job highlights Luca was the ad campaign photographer for Diesel U Music 2009/2010 and was the editor of Gomma Magazine from 2004 to 2007.

Luca is the co-owner and Chief Editor of Gomma Online and Gomma Books Ltd, respectively a popular online portal for photographers and a bijou publishing house, specializing in high quality collectible photo books. Gomma was established in 2004. Luca is also the brains behind MONO, an hardback photo book showcasing the best contemporary black and white photographers (to be published in fall 2012).

Luca Desienna is based in London.