The Godfather himself

This morning, I went with a reporter to photograph Francis Ford Coppola during an interview. "No pictures while I speak, please!" he said. So I waited till the end of the interview. He gave me 2 minutes. Which meant 18 frames. This is my favourite.

Lens baby

Andreea, reluctant to what she called "visual abuse" by a lens baby.

You like the obscure

"I see you like the obscure."

All the President's men. And women. And children.

This past week-end, Traian Basescu, the Romanian president, came to downtown Bucharest to deliver a speech. A few hours earlier, Emil Constantinescu, a former president, tried to gather a small crowd across the street to protest against the presidential speech. I tried to approach the event in a Christopher Morris kind of way.

Two old men read a promotional paper during the protest against the presidential speech, while a girl runs past.

Former president Emil Constantinescu smiles while talking to his followers. His goatee was almost a trademark when he was in power.

Agrecii Mihaela, 19 years old, holds a flag during the antipresidential rally. "I came from Constanta to Bucharest to rally for freedom", she said.

On the other side of the street, a couple holds hands while waiting for the president to show up.

Police officers waiting for the presidential convoy.

Hundreds of people waited in front of the stage for Basescu to show up.

Police officers in the crowd.

Secret Service agents scout the crowd while the president takes a break inside a tent next to the stage after the speech.

Most TV stations used a lot of logistics in covering the speech, since the president planned his public appearance for prime time hours.

A boy climbed up a tree to get a better view of the president.

Official restroom

One of the players takes a leak on the side of the field. There is no restroom, no locker, nada.

Home

Went to my hometown over the week-end.


Mom and dad.

Cute little neighbour. She was almost half this size when I last saw her.

Uranus

Believe it or not, there's an outdoor cinema called "Uranus" in Bucharest. The planet, that is. Still, odd name. I checked it out last night and snapped a few pictures of a few friends to keep warm.

Stamatin. Bogdan Stamatin.

More football

Two of the team leaders just got back from Germany, where they went to buy the first set of official football equipment for the team.

Two of the guys use a car door as a mirror to check out the way they look in their new equipment.

Florin smiles during practice. He says he thinks the new equipment allows him to throw better passes.

Roman, the only team member who played in the US, explains to the others how to wear the equipment.

Florin organizes the attack during a drill.

Not everyone got to wear the new equipment. Some guys couldn't afford to chip in, while others simply refused to pay for what they say is just a hobby.

Football

I spent some more time with the football guys to get to know them a little better.


"Ogarul" (The Greyhound) makes a run during practice.

Practicing a kick.

The guys concentrate to hold their position while Mihai, third from the right and one of the team leaders, counts out loud during an exercise meant to strengthen their legs. Though it looks like they're sitting, there is nothing under their butts in this painful exercise.

Esquire, the begining of a beautiful friendship

I've recently started what I hope would be a long cooperation with the newly launched Romanian version of the Esquire magazine. It'll mostly consist of little (three weeks' time) picture stories and environmental portraits.

I won't post any portaits before they are published in the magazine. However, I'll post pictures from stories I'll be working on and I will appreciate all the feedback I can get.

For the upcoming number, I'm working on a story about a bunch of Romanian guys that started an American football team here in Bucharest. The reporter who came up with the story, a former Mizzou grad, is my friend Cristian Lupsa - staff writer for Esquire here. These guys play on a rough soccer field and don't even have equipment yet or a team to play against. Still, they have a lot of enthusiasm, which some papers that covered the story briefly kind of neglected.

Here are couple of pictures from the first training session I witnessed.

The guys warm up before their practice. When the team started, it was just about kicking the ball around. The compulsory warm up was the first sign that they were beginning to take things a little more seriously.


The guys take a short break in between drills. The field they play on is really rudimentary.

Costesti

I took Ikuru to the Gypsy fair in Costesti, where rich Gypsies get together to show off and party. Here are a few snaps.

A child runs past tow luxurious cars waving a toy gun. Mercedes and BMW are the most popular cars in this community. A man's car represents his status and can affect his image in Costesti.


A man drinks while loud music blasts from the speakers outside his tent.


A young Gypsy poses for a portrait.


Liviu Silvestru wraps his coat tightly around his body once the sun goes down and the cold sets in. Not everyone parties. Liviu has been selling second-hand clothes all day long.

Alby

The King of Music

During the photo workshop we're at here in Timisoara, we spent several nights drinking and laughing our asses off with Tamango, a popular Gypsy singer who calls himself the King of Music.

Tamango tries to light a cigarette with his pistol-like lighter.

Ikuru, The Guru

My friend Ikuru has landed in the beautiful Romanian landscape. He plans to live and work here for a year, more or less.


Ikuru talks to Andreea, a Romanian journalist, on the night train to Timisoara, a city in Western Romania that hosts a Gipsy festival.


Bogdan (one of my dearest) and Ikuru in the backstage at a concert.

Home, sweet home

I finally got home to Romania a few days ago and I spent the week-end in Vama Veche, a popular place at the seaside.

Checking out their tan.


Scanning the beach.


Dancing on the beach.

Chris

Chris sleeps on the bus. He has been on the streets for seven days. Last night at 12, his bar expired and he was allowed back in Tent City.
Chris looks at Tent City from the outside, an experience he says helps him understand this community better and prevent him from repeating mistakes. A few hours before his bar expired, he walked Amber back to Tent City, but was not allowed to get too close.

Heavenly dog

A dog looks out from the back of a car in a street in Seattle.

Chris

I have a feeling that this is turning into a story about Chris, in which Amber plays a significant role, rather than a story about their relationship.

Sunday afternoon, Chris got kicked out of Tent City for seven days, for not reporting a camper that had parked his truck behind the camp (which is not allowed because of liability issues). He's been on the streets ever since.


Chris looks for a blanket outside a donation shop. The storage areas behind places like Good Will or Salvation Army (where people donate their stuff and the profits go to different benefits) are a good resource for homeless people to find stuff that helps them survive harsh conditions.


Chris rests on a bench in a bus stops and reacts when he recalls how he got kicked out for what he says is protecting other people.


Looking for a dry blanket behind a Value Village store.


He lights a cigarette while holding a blanket that he found outside a trailer behind the Value Village store.


Chris tries to force the door of an abandoned house, where he thought might be a good place to sleep. The door was secured with a couch from the other side, but not long later Chris managed to get into another abandoned house through a window.


Chris takes a short break from what he calls his scan (looking for useful stuff on the streets or for possible places to spend the night) in a gang where he used to hang out.

Hispanic community

Franklin County is the first county in the North West to have a majority of Hispanics. I went down there to what was supposed to be a two-hour assignment, to photograph workers on an orchard to illustrate the story. I felt that there was much more to a Hispanic community than just workers, so I stayed three more days to try to understand the place. The Hispanic people I met in and around Pasco were very kind and granted me great access into their culture, though my Spanish is rudimentary.

Here are a few of my favourite images.