C O N D E M N E D
This was one of my first long-term photographic commitments — a spontaneous attempt to document life in a Roma ghetto in Bulgaria.
At the beginning, I believed that if I showed the conditions these people live in — the children, the women, the families — it might provoke some kind of change. I believed that visibility was the first step toward humanity and justice. I was naive. Over time, I realised that reality is more resilient than any photograph, and that visibility alone is not enough.
But the project remained — as a testimony, a scar, a personal reminder that photography doesn't always change the world, but it changes us. I approached it with respect and a sense of responsibility. I don’t want to romanticize poverty or use it for artistic effect.
This is an archive of a place where human life persists despite everything — and for that reason alone, it deserves to be seen.
At the beginning, I believed that if I showed the conditions these people live in — the children, the women, the families — it might provoke some kind of change. I believed that visibility was the first step toward humanity and justice. I was naive. Over time, I realised that reality is more resilient than any photograph, and that visibility alone is not enough.
But the project remained — as a testimony, a scar, a personal reminder that photography doesn't always change the world, but it changes us. I approached it with respect and a sense of responsibility. I don’t want to romanticize poverty or use it for artistic effect.
This is an archive of a place where human life persists despite everything — and for that reason alone, it deserves to be seen.
