HAVANA STREET CHILDREN ongoing
Starting in the spring of 2015, I made three trips to Havana to photograph the children in the grittiest parts of town, sometimes just a few-minute-walk away from the few shops selling brand-names and ladies in festive costumes holding cigars and charging to have their photos taken. These children have no computers or cell phones. No toys, or a few shared by a neighborhood. Their clothes are donated by relatives in the U.S. and they don’t see western TV shows or ads, so wear Disney without knowing the characters and Barbie without ever having seen the doll. Their play is the imaginative childhood world long gone from the streets of America: marbles, hopscotch, and soccer and baseball without a parent in sight.
I photographed exclusively in black and white from my first project in 1994, through my many years as a commission children's photographer, and all the photos in my 2015 book My Island were taken with a Mamiya film camera. I was one of the last hold-outs for black and white film (nothing beats this for capturing a child's skin and expression) and Havana marks my transition to color.
Starting in the spring of 2015, I made three trips to Havana to photograph the children in the grittiest parts of town, sometimes just a few-minute-walk away from the few shops selling brand-names and ladies in festive costumes holding cigars and charging to have their photos taken. These children have no computers or cell phones. No toys, or a few shared by a neighborhood. Their clothes are donated by relatives in the U.S. and they don’t see western TV shows or ads, so wear Disney without knowing the characters and Barbie without ever having seen the doll. Their play is the imaginative childhood world long gone from the streets of America: marbles, hopscotch, and soccer and baseball without a parent in sight.
I photographed exclusively in black and white from my first project in 1994, through my many years as a commission children's photographer, and all the photos in my 2015 book My Island were taken with a Mamiya film camera. I was one of the last hold-outs for black and white film (nothing beats this for capturing a child's skin and expression) and Havana marks my transition to color.
