Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

Just before completing her MFA at the Art Institute of Chicago, Veronica Corzo-Duchardt returned to New York City for a funeral.

Her grandfather, Neche Eugenio Hadad, was known to others as a meticulous accountant and a devoted grandfather who walked his grandchildren from school to his apartment each day. While waiting for their parents to return from work, he regaled Veronica and her brother with stories of their family’s past generations in Cuba and Lebanon.

But as she grew older, Veronica began to see him as the custodian of the family history, who brought his professional exactitude to the preservation of their heritage.

Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

Veronica’s artistic vision has always been rooted in memory and heritage, especially as it shows up in material culture. Her body of creative work explores the significance of commonplace objects and overlooked surface histories; she’s known for using the ephemera of her own everyday life (coffee grounds, sugar, paper scraps) to create textures for her screen prints.

She had long recognized that she was the natural heir to Neche’s role as family archivist. But while looking through Neche’s belongings for birth certificates, immigration documents and photo albums–the important things that that she could take home for preservation–she discovered a treasure trove of ephemera that told her family’s story in a way that words couldn’t convey.

What she found became the Neche Collection, a visual archive that tells this remarkable man’s story, one piece at a time, and elevates everyday objects with evocative meaning.

Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo Duchardt

Do you think your grandfather identified more as Cuban or as Lebanese? 

“He got his citizenship; he definitely felt like he was American. But I would say that Cuban was dominant. His parents moved to Cuba in 1922 and he was born in 1926; he’d never been to Lebanon. And he never really talked about why his parents came, or anything like that. It influenced him in some of the language and some of the food; my grandmother cooked Lebanese stuff that his mom taught my grandmother to make. But they lived in the midst of lots of other Lebanese people living in Cuba, who had moved for political reasons or just exploring the world in a way we don’t do now.”

Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

What was your relationship like with your grandfather?

“My grandfather and I were very close. In a lot of Latino cultures, you sort of grow up with your grandparents always over. He was the one who remembered all the stories from Cuba. He was the archivist of the family. I didn’t realize how much stuff he had, at the time, until I started working with him, recording my grandparents through audio interviews to document some of their story. I’d heard about the fact that he’d shipped a lot of documents and photographs over, which is something a lot of Cuban families did because you couldn’t bring everything with you.

“I think he liked the fact that I was interested in hearing all the stories. But while he was alive, he was very protective and possessive of his things. He didn’t want to share them with anyone.”

Photo couresty of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

For 29 weeks, the Neche Collection ran live, gathering a cult of devoted followers both in the design world and outside it. Veronica received emails and comments from people around the country who felt their own histories reflected in the objects–histories that couldn’t have been more different from Neche’s.

“I wasn’t really sure how people would react—it’s a really personal project about my grandpa that nobody else knew. But so many people have reached out to me, and really opened up about their own stories. ‘Oh my god! I have that Speak-and-Spell.’ I’ve even had an artist from Iran talking about how some of the items to him spoke of diaspora—the Viewmaster was very significant to him because He realized that was how he as a child encountered American culture, being able to view these cities. That was not at all the relationship I had with the Viewfinder! I think of it as a kitschy, fun object I remember from being younger. It’s really cool that they are able to see their own story in this project.”

Photo Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

Photo courtesy of Veronica Corzo-Duchardt

The post A Rich Inheritance Discovered Through Everyday Objects appeared first on Project Bly Blog.

In 2010, Matt and Cayla moved to Sulaymaniyah as founding members of Preemptive Love Coalition, a nonprofit that provides training for Iraqi heart surgeons and nurses to treat the thousands of Iraqi children born with heart defects.

Image © Matt Willingham

In the early months of their move, Matt would walk to work each day with a camera around his neck, documenting the exotic beauty of everyday life. His lens gave their American friends and family a point of connection with a culture they had been taught to hold at a distance.

Sulaymaniyah’s progressive disposition made for a relatively easy transition for Matt and Cayla, as outsiders. It also made locals more tolerant, if not readily receptive, of the camera’s presence in private or household settings.

Image © Matt Willingham

But the streets have changed dramatically since 2012. The city’s ideological openness has contracted into a palpable, war-weary tension.

Image © Matt Willingham

“This place,” Matt says, “is a PTSD powder keg.”

These days, they say, people will suddenly lash out over a perceived threat or slight. It may be something you’ve said, or it may arise simply at the sight of a camera lens.

Matt learned the reason why from a Yazidi man who had fled the siege of Sinjar. The man explained that during the reign of Saddam Hussein, a person taking your photograph could be collecting information that got you dragged away. Before that, your photograph might be sent to America and get your whole family sent to prison. In the 1940s and 50s, it was the British who might be collecting intelligence.

“He pointed at my camera and said ‘Kalashnikov, camera—not different.’”

Eventually, Matt stopped carrying the camera at all.

Image © Matt Willingham

As American outsiders, Matt and Cayla have had to work at reestablishing their relationships with neighbors, coworkers, and the families they hope to serve. In the process, their empathy has deepened and their eyes have grown more keen, more hungry, for the flashes of beauty that grow increasingly rare in daily life.

Image © Matt Willingham

One of the richest sources of beauty they’ve discovered came through the help of their two-year-old son, Jack.

Image © Matt Willingham

“People asked if we’re afraid, having kids [in Iraq],” Cayla says. “On a day-to-day basis, I almost feel safer here. If I take him to the store and misplace them, I know a clerk will grab them and bring him back to me. That’s been a surprise—the communal help with babies.”

She laughs, adding “Not always help I want, like when they’re trying to feed him sugar!”

Image © Matt Willingham

Matt agrees, “It’s not weird to just hand your baby to a stranger while you’re shopping. For all of its sectarian division, people will just jump in to help. There’s always a guy who will hop into your car and help you park, or walk into the street to direct traffic.”

Image © Matt Willingham

As an ambassador for PLC, Matt’s travels have taken him farther into the region—to the wild, windswept beaches of Turkey; to Baghdad, where the nation’s rich history as a center of academia, arts and culture is juxtaposed with the decay of bombed buildings; and to the south, where Matt discovered the hidden culture of majalis—wise men who welcome strangers into a small room filled with books and pillows, and offer them counsel from the Koran.

Image © Matt Willingham

The culture of listening is ingrained into Iraqi culture—people are apt to skip right over small talk in order to ask about things like gay marriage, Christianity versus Islam, and yes, the ongoing war.

“All the things we avoid talking about in the US, they just jump into. I really, really enjoy that.”

Image © Matt Willingham

Last year, at the request of his PLC directors, Matt reluctantly brought his Canon Mark II to a hospital mission. While documenting the doctors’ work there, he met a little boy named Hussain. His father was very eager to have the boy’s picture taken, telling Matt “Nobody ever pays attention to my son.”

As they sat in the waiting room, the father opened up to Matt about the joy Hussain’s birth had brought, the tragedy of his diagnosis with Down’s Syndrome and its attendant heart defect, and the constant denial they had encountered in trying to get medical help for their son.

“The people said he wasn’t worth it,” the father told Matt.

Image © Matt Willingham

Matt’s photograph and accompanying story was not only instrumental in gaining support for Hussein’s life-saving surgery, it was also a blessing to his family.

“I wasn’t stealing a picture,” Matt recalls. “We were making something together.”

Other stories are less obvious ones to share. While the short version of the facts may make for good copy, Matt has become increasingly passionate about the need for visitors to Iraq to collaborate with the people they’ve come to help or document.

“I wish people would spend more time thinking of themselves as making something with locals as opposed to documenting locals. When I first started taking pictures, it was an opportunity to make more of a connection with people. And I think it worked. [Picture] hanging out with a chai guy and he starts telling you a story about fleeing Syria, and all he wants is to go back and finish university, but he doesn’t have his papers… A lot of people are apt to do that. They just want someone to listen, to be heard.”

Image © Matt Willingham

Now back in California, awaiting the birth of their second child, Matt and Cayla are preparing for their return to Iraq by meditating on ways to nurture the remnants of beauty in Iraq’s daily life, for their own good and for the good of the community that has adopted them.

Image © Matt Willingham

“What you see in the architecture is echoed in the people — they’ve been through so much, but they have strong aesthetics, a strong emphasis on academics and reading. That’s fascinating—seeing glimpses of what it was once, and what it could be again.”

To donate to the Preemptive Love Coalition, and help save the life of a child, head over here.

Image © Matt Willingham

Chelsea Batten is a journalist and photographer who writes a regular column on Project Bly featuring travelers, photographers, adventurers and doers across the globe. Follow her on Instagram or Twitter, or visit her blog. Email her at holler@chelseabatten.com if you’re a traveler with a story to tell. 

The post Everyday Life in Iraq Through the Lens of Matt Willingham appeared first on Project Bly Blog.

What all of this has taught us, is that as diverse cultures are across the world, they’re also the same. We take pleasure in celebrating the uniqueness of each place we visit, but we also love the similarities we find across cultures. In this series, Same but Different, we give you a glimpse into our connected world through Project Bly’s lens.

Balloon Sellers from Mumbai to Mexico.

A Balloon Vendor in Mumbai, Photography by Shriti Bannerjee for Project Bly.

Kids everywhere love balloons! This balloon vendor was photographed near Bhendi Bazaar in South Mumbai, India.

Balloon vendors in Oaxaca, Mexico. Photography by Marcela Taboada for Project Bly.

The zócalo (main square) is the heart of  Oaxaca, and is where locals and tourists gather in the evenings and weekends to play and people watch.

Project Bly is a website built on the philosophy that to know a city, one must wander its streets. 

www.projectbly.com

The post Same But Different: Balloons Around the World appeared first on Project Bly Blog.

A Pig in the River. Photography by Jakub Sliwa for Project Bly.

1. Three Perspectives by Bartolomeo Koczenasz 

(ul. Limanowskiego and ul.  Węgierska)

Follow Starowislna in Kazimierz to the Powstancow Slaskich Bridge to Podgorze (and of course don’t forget to check out the pig in the river while crossing the foot bridge!) At the corner of Limanowskiego and Węgierska Streets is local Krakow artist, Bartolomeo Koczenasz ‘s three dimensional installation titled Three Perspectives.  Podgorze  has a tragic history and images from different periods of its history are pasted so that its chronological past is fragmented.

Three Perspectives. Photography by Jakub Sliwa for Project Bly.

Podgorze, formerly part of Austria became a part of Krakow only in 1915. It’s darkest period was during World War II when the Jewish population of Kazimierz was moved here into a Jewish Ghetto established by the Nazis. An estimated 60,000 people lived in the Ghetto, and for most it was their last stop before being deported to the death camps of Auschwitz-Birkenau. After World War II, under Stalin and until the fall of the iron curtain, Podgorze was mostly a ghost town. While several communist-era apartment buildings were constructed here, few people voluntarily chose to return to the site of so much horror. Today, Cracovians are reclaiming these streets, and it is home to several artists, galleries, and the MOCAK Krakow Museum of Contemporary Art which opened its doors in 2010.

2.  Starmach Galeria

(Węgierska 5, Kraków)

Two Crakovians who have been instrumental in infusing new life into Podgorze are art historians, Teresa and Andrew Starmach who own the Starmach Gallery. The Gallery which is housed in a renovated Jewish house of prayer opened in 1997, and has hosted more than 64 exhibitions of both local and Eastern European artists. Currently exhibited are haunting black and white photographs by Czech photographer Josef Koudelka of the Soviet Union invasion of Czechoslavakia in August 1968. The Starmachs also represent and promote Polish artists such as Marek Chlanda and Jan Tarasen.

(L) Marek Chlanda (R) Jan Tarasen. Image via ArtKontakt.

3. Ding Dong Dumb by BLU

(ul. Piwna 3a)

Down the street is Krakow’s most controversial street mural titled Ding Dong Dumb by Bolognese artist Blu which shows a giant raised bell used as a microphone towering over dazed confused heads. A criticism perhaps on the authority of the Vatican?

Ding Dong Dumb. Photography by Jakub Sliwa for Project Bly

4. Auscwitzwielickza

(Kącik 2033-332 Kraków) 

AUSCHWITZWIELICZKA, by Polish artist Mirosław Bałka. Photography by Jakub Sliwa for Project Bly

Auscwitzwielickza is a concrete tunnel with the words “Auschwitz” and “Wielickza” running into each other. Struck by tourist agencies that advertise “excellent entertaining day trips” that combine the somber memory of the savage Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camps with “the beautiful salt mines of Wieliczka”, conceptual artist Miroslaw Balka created the sculpture as a commentary on contemporary culture and how it deals with historical remembrance.

(Next door to this installation is also a whimsical mural by local street artist Mikolay Rejs painted on the wall of the abandoned Wawel Chocolate Factory)

Mikolaj Rejs’s Mural at the Wawel Chocolate Factory. Photography by Jakub Sliwa for Project Bly.

5. Krakow’s Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCAK)

(Ul. Lipowa 4, 30-702 Kraków)

MOCAK, which opened in 2010 is located steps away from Balka’s installation and houses an impressive permanent collection including  Hungarian artist Csaba Nemes, Russian abstract artist Eligiusz Bielutin (1925-2012) and Jarosław Kozłowski, one of Poland’s most famous contemporary conceptual artists.

Image via MOCAK

6. The Art Warehouse District of Zablocie 

Next door to MOCAK is Zablocie, a hip industrial neighborhood of warehouses where mechanic workshops neighbor art studios, one of which belongs to Monika Drozynaska, a conceptual artist. Born in the small, mountainous town of Gorlic, 2 hours southeast of Krakow, she moved to the city to study art and design at Krakow’s Academy of Fine Art. Fascinated by the idea of bringing fashion into the public space, one of her first installations, entitled the ‘Hand of God’, used underwear elastic to trace the path of Maradona’s famous 1986 football goal shot. More recently, as part of a display in Krakow’s Museum of Contemporary Art, she created a 135 meter-long scarf that can embrace a 100 people at once. Formed as a functional piece of art, the scarf can be bought in one meter or more pieces.

Monika in her studio in Zablocie. Photography by Jakub Sliwa for Project Bly

If you’re getting hungry, now’s the time to stop for lunch or a coffee. In the same compound of warehouses as Monika’s is Coffee Cargo (Przemysłowa 3), a coffee shop housed in a series of old shipping containers. Next door is cafe Bal (Ślusarska 9, 30-710 ), frequented by students and artists, it’s light and airy, and a great place for lunch.

The Zablocie Art District, Krakow

7. Lookarna’s Atelier

(Józefa 22, 30-962 Kraków)

Kazimierz, the historic Jewish District has seen more rejuvenation than anywhere else. International and local street artists like Pil Peled ( corner ofWąska and Św. Wawrzyńca), Pikaso ul.Św. Wawrzyńca 5, and Kuba (ul. Bozega Ciala) have reinvented drab, gray walls. The streets are lined with cafes, bars, antique shops including one of our favorite artist’s studio and gallery. Contemporary artist and illustrator, Lookarna works out of her street-side shop whose walls are decorated with her drawings and poetry. We couldn’t get enough of her whimsical prints which you can purchase here!

Lookarna’s Atelier, Krakow

8. Alchemia and Andre Siek

( 33 332, Estery 5, 33-332 Kraków)

A great place to end your art walk and stop for a beer is Alchemia, a bar frequented by musicians, poets, artists and students. Small intimate rooms are filled with art, and in their collection is a piece by reclusive local sculptor Andre Siek. Born into a family of artists, Andrej creates spontaneous, and often autobiographical, sculptures from wood and stone and is inspired by folk tales and mysticism. Living simply on the outskirts of Krakow with just a mattress, two chairs, a fireplace, surrounded by his art, Andrej describes his work as a compulsion.

Andrew Siek. Photography by Jakub Sliwa for Project Bly

Want more art? Check out our story on Krakow’s Street Art!

Project Bly’s Art Walk, Krakow, Poland

Project Bly believes that to know a city you have to wander its streets, and we bring alive the streets of cities around the world through story and photography.

Explore the streets of Krakow, Poland

www.projectbly.com

The post A Walking Tour of Krakow’s Vibrant Art District appeared first on Project Bly Blog.

Bicycles Around the World; Malacca, Marrakech, Oaxaca and Mumbai (Left to Right)

1. Women’s Rights in Afghanistan

The bicycle played an important role for women’s rights in the United States, and in 1896, our namesake, Nellie Bly, the globetrotting fearless journalist interviewed suffragette Susan B. Anthony about the bicycle for the New York World:

“Let me tell you what I think of bicycling,” Miss Anthony said, leaning forward and laying a slender hand on my arm. “I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel. It gives woman a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. It makes her feel as if she were independent.”

119 yeas later, the bicycle is responsible for another 2-wheeled gender revolution. In Afghanistan, a country where women had almost no rights under the Taliban’s oppressive regime, young Fatima Haidari founded a Kabul Bike Riding Club with the support of Girl Up, a U.N. organization that advocates for young girls around the world, and Mountains2Mountain. In an interview with NPR, Haidari says cycling allows “woman to be able to get somewhere without a male’s help”, an essential ingredient for self-reliance and independence.

Humans of Afghanistan met up with this Bicycle Club in Kabul.

2. New Words in Netherlands

The Netherlands is the undisputed bicycle capital of the world, and there just about as many bicycles as people in the bike-friendly capital, Amsterdam. The Dutch word for bicycle is “fiets” (pronounced feets), and one of the most popular fiets is the omafiat or the grandma bike. A sturdy roadster often with a basket for groceries, it’s ridden by men, women, children and yes, even grandmas. Omafiat might just be our new favorite word!

Summertime in Amsterdam.

3. Communism and a Changing China

In Mao’s China, the bicycle was a symbol of an egalitarian society, and people aspired to own sanshengyixiang, or “three rounds and sound” — a wristwatch, bicycle, sewing machine and radio. By the 1980s, a bicycle became a symbol of backwardness, but as the Atlantic reports, in an effort to battle the smog and traffic from cars, the government is trying hard to make them cool again!

A mobile vegetable stand in Xiamen, China; image by Claudio Zaccherini

4. Climate Change in Vietnam

In the 1970s and 80s in Vietnam, the bicycle was the main means of transport for most of the population. As the economy grew and standards of living rose, bicycles were traded in for motorcycles. Now 90% of vehicles on the roads of Hanoi are motorcycles, and Vietnam’s air quality ranks among the worst in the world.

A woman cycles past the gate to the village of Ha Thai on the outskirts of Hanoi, Vietnam; photography by Ehrin Macksey for Project Bly

5. The Partition of India 

Bicycles in Mumbai; Photography by Shriti Bannerjee for Project Bly

India, is the second largest manufacturer of bicycles, and leading the way is Hero, a company whose roots can be traced to four brothers who grew up in a little town in Pakistan called, Kamalia. This 70 year old company is not just a story of success, but one of resilience.  Forced to move from their hometown after the bloody partition between India and Pakistan in 1947,  the brothers eventually settled in Ludhiana, Punjab where they had to start their business all over again. The company now manufactures 18,500 bicycles a day, up from 25 a day in 1955!

6. Art in Malaysia 

“Little Children on a Bicycle” by Lithuanian artist Ernest Zacharevic in Georgetown, Penang, Malaysia; Photography by R.M. Nunes

In Penang, Malaysia, Lithuanian artist Ernest Zacharevic transformed the streets with a series of murals that used 3 dimensional props like bicycles! Zacharevic who calls Penang home says that “Penang island, with its heritage and rich blend of cultures, is an artistic inspiration in itself. I have always been fascinated by its culture and history; especially reflected in its textures, old walls and heritage shop houses. ”

7. Economic Development in Zambia

Masai woman in Ngorogoro, Tanzania; Photography by Meunierd

Bicycles can create access to everything from education to healthcare and economic opportunity. A Chicago entrepreneur,Frederick K.W. Day  recognized this, and started a non-profit called World Bicycle Relief that makes bicycles for rugged sub-saharan african roads. One of the biggest impacts is creating access to markets so that a farmer, can take his produce to market or a weaver his rugs.  Assembled in Zambia and Zimbabwe, the charity has employees in 8 countries, and its bicycles are available all over East Africa.

Pretty cool, huh?

Want more bicycles stories from around the world, follow Project Bly on instagram where we’ll be posting our favorite images this summer as well as yours! Use hashtag #blystreetlife for a chance to be featured!

#blystreetlife Bicycles Around the World: Arimatsu, Japan; Marrakech, Morocco; Malacca, Malaysia, Marrakech, Morocco (clockwise)

Project Bly is a website focused on street culture around the world. 

Cycle on!

The post Bicycle Stories from Afghanistan to Zambia appeared first on Project Bly Blog.

Astoria, Queens photographed by Maria Belford; © Maria Belford

What first inspired you to become a photographer?

My grandfather lived with my family when I was very young and had a subscription to National Geographic magazine. He would always sit me on his lap and show me all of the amazing photos taken all over the world, and it instantly inspired me to travel as well as created a desire to learn more about photography

How do you explore a new city?

Very slowly and always by foot if I can. I don’t want to miss anything, and like to discover things by letting myself get a bit lost. I will often stop and spend time at places that intrigue me­ whether it’s a park or a little bar or a street vendor­ and that can lead to locals making suggestions for where I should go to next, which always helps.

Port of Spain, Trinidad; © Maria Belford

Who are some of your favorite street artists?

Tatyana Fazlalizadeh and her Stop Telling Women to Smile project is something I’ve been following closely and admiring for along time. She combines photography, illustration and wheat-pasting to create street art that addresses issues surrounding street harassment and women’s rights.

Tell us about some of the best street food you’ve eaten?

Doubles, in Port of Spain, Trinidad. They’re a very popular street food in Trinidad, made with flat bread, curried chickpeas, hot pepper, mango, and tamarind­. They’re so incredibly delicious, and are inexpensive and eaten by all of the locals. Every Trinidadian person I know would ask me “Did you have Doubles?” when I mentioned that I had visited Trinidad. The first time I tried them, I had been walking for hours, wandering around the downtown area of Port of Spain on an especially hot day, and I finally came across a Doubles cart in Independence Square. The lady serving them was making them at rapid speed, as there were constantly people swarming the cart. When I got mine, I sat on a bench and happily enjoyed them. Such a simple concept and so inexpensive so they’re accessible to everyone.

Apart from photographs, what mementos of your travels do you bring home with you?

I always try to bring back a painting or some type of visual artwork from a local artist in whatever city I’m visiting.

Ollantaytambo, Peru; © Maria Belford

What is your favorite Bly Product?

What city would you love to go back to?

Where should Bly go next?

Yalta, Crimea; © Maria Belford

What’s your travel motto?

See more of Maria’s photographs, and learn more about her work, at www.mariabelford.com

Are you a photojournalist with wanderlust?  Send us an e mail at hello@projectbly.com if you’re interested in being featured on Project Bly. 

The post Maria Belford: Life Through the Camera Lens appeared first on Project Bly Blog.

Hajime Kimura was sixteen when he saw his first horse race. Five years later, he ate horse meat at a restaurant, whose owner informed him that he was in fact eating retired racehorses.
Hajime tried to connect his memory of the heroic animals he’d seen years before, with their athletes’ physiques, with the meat on his plate. He couldn’t. He didn’t understand. So he did what he usually does when he wants to understand something: he got his camera and went in search of answers.

His journey took him to the Japanese island of Hokkaido, and produced “Tracks,” a series of photographs that document the lives of the island’s racehorses. He says it was one of the toughest projects he’s done, but he walked away understanding something about life, death and memory — three subjects he returns to again and again in his work.

“Waiting for Dusk” © Hajime Kimura

© Hajime Kimura, “Tracks”

Hajime grew up near Tokyo in Chiba prefecture and studied anthropology and architecture at university. His primary interests lay outside of the classroom, however, and he spent most of his would-be school days backpacking around Asia. He was close to being kicked out when a professor asked him to take photos on a class outing, a serendipitous introduction to the medium.

Hajime had found the means to pursue the subjects that fascinated him. One of his first major projects is an almost anthropological study of the Matagi, an indigenous hunter tribe in the northern Nigata prefecture. Hajime spent five years with the Matagi, an experience that he says allowed him to peek back to a distant time, an ancient way of life that is rapidly disappearing. The result was a book-length work called KODAMA that won first place at the IPA Photobook Asia Awards in 2013.

“Matagi” © Hajime Kimura

If KODAMA allowed Hajime to create a historical memory, the series “Man and Dog” and “Path In-Between” allowed him to create a deeply personal memory — a memory of his father, who died of cancer, taking the dog out for a walk.

“Every time my father opened the door of the garden, the dog would stick out its tongue and wag its tail because it understood that it was going for a walk,” Hajime writes in an introduction to the work. “However I’ve actually never seen my father walking his dog. But if the dog wasn’t around, then neither was he. Every day, walking the dog took him about two hours. Now that my father has passed away, I do it in his stead.”

“A Man and His Dog, Kuro”. © Hajime Kimura

 Since then, Hajime has dove deeper into his family’s history. While cleaning his parents’ house, he discovered an old family album with pictures from his parents’ childhood. Soon he was on his way to the towns in which they had grown up to learn more. The series “Family Album” includes both the pictures from his journey and the ones from the album that inspired it.

Hajime’s fascination with history and memory continues today. After finding an untitled book of photographs taken in a town in Japan’s northeast, he is currently working to combine these old images with his own modern photographs, connecting past and present.

Hajime Kimura photographed Kanazawa and the Noto Peninsula for Project Bly. Hajime photographs with film and develops his own images. You can purchase his book titled “Tokyo Etude” of photographs and drawings of Tokyo here.  To see more of Hajime’s work, visit www.hajimekimura.net. 

The post How to Create a Memory: A Profile of Photographer Hajime Kimura appeared first on Project Bly Blog.