Exhibition · 2016
Milestones ’56
Hungarian House, New York
In my own words
In New York I met people who carried 1956 in their pockets. Literally: photographs, a key, a christening spoon — the one object they grabbed on the way out. We spent months driving around New York State, Connecticut, New Jersey, tracking down the ones still alive.
So I photographed them twice: once the face, once the object. Together they make one picture. The light is classical, almost Rembrandt, because these people deserved the dignity of painting. Nobody looks down in these portraits. There are no victim poses. Sixty years on, they were still standing — and that is the whole exhibition in one sentence.
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