All Posts

After a random discussion with a friend over a beer, I decided Nepal would be my next destination. From decision to “boots-on-the-ground” it took just three days.

The first time I landed in Vietnam, I could see the heavily pock-marked bomb craters on the rice fields surrounding the Ho Chi Minh City airport from the window of the airplane. It was 1986, just 11 short years after the end of the Vietnam War.

My father was born and raised in Santiago de Chile to German/Jewish parents. My grandparents fled WWII in 1939 and started a new life in Chile. In 1997, I graduated from Tulane University, in New Orleans.  Not anxious to jump right into medical school, I decided to take a year off to explore my family roots. It was actually during this year that I really started to develop my skills as a photographer.

It is rumored that I even took my first steps at the Boulevard Hotel! Little did I know at that time, but Africa eventually became my home later on, importantly influencing my formation.

I was born in Nashville, Tennessee in 1975- the first and only child to first generation immigrant parents. My father was a young Chilean pediatrician working at Meharry Medical College and my mother, a Vietnamese accountant and MBA working for the Internal Revenue Service. At the age of 3, we moved to New Orleans, Louisiana.

A few minutes in a Bangladesh brick kiln nearly broke me. My Bangladesh documentary photography shows workers breathing coal dust for a couple of bucks daily.

I boarded the plane, richer in experience, richer in art and with all my vital organs.

Rounding the corner of the kiln, I came across two young men shoveling and grinding big chunks of coal into the coal dust that would be used to stoke the kiln fires. With only filthy head wraps to protect them, so much coal dust was pouring out from the 3-walled corrugated iron shack that you could hardly see them.  I have never seen worse working conditions in my life. 

Everywhere I went I was followed by 10 - 20 curious locals, all asking me my name and my nationality or asking to have their photo taken. “Trump! Trump?!”