July has gotten a whole lot better since PhotoIreland began three years ago. Transforming Dublin into a photography mecca through its all-encompassing programme of exhibitions, book fairs and portfolio reviews, the festival provides the infrastructure needed to encourage photographic practices in Ireland, as well as some aesthetic nourishment. This year, the programme is loosely held together by a theme of ‘Migration’. We spoke to a cross-section of participating photographers about their work: Dinu Li, Jean Revilliard, Isabelle Pateer and David Monaghan, as part of a series we’re running across the week.
Migration is the key theme of PhotoIreland this year, and this issue brings up a cluster of closely linked socio-political issues; one of these is human trafficking, and the forced prostitution that often accompanies it. Sarah on the Bridge boldly explores this theme, Swiss photographer Jean Reviliard photographing his subject in the location she was forced to prostitute herself, just outside of Turin. The image of her body, semi-naked under a shock of neon pink polyester and surrounded by lush green vegetation, is visceral and animalistic. Even before we read her backstory – how she travelled from Ghana, crossing borders with fake passports and bribes, then was promised work as a seamstress, a deceptive title that turned out to have more to do with semen than seams – we know that something, somewhere, has gone horribly wrong for this woman.
Thankfully, Sarah is now living safely in a European country. The series that documents her journey tells the tale (sadly, not an uncommon one) of one woman’s struggle to seek asylum and escape the sex trade, but also a touching story of human connection and trust, an unlikely bond forming between an illiterate asylum seeker and an internationally respected fine art photographer. The result will be on display at The Copper House Gallery from July 14th.
When did the idea for this series come about?
I was still working on a series on migration I did on Calais’s shelters. As this was drawing to a close, I went to Turin and, on my way back, decided take the back roads. While driving near a forest, I suddenly saw what appeared be half-naked African women between the trees. The image was so poignant. I decided I was going to work on this: the forced return of Man to the forest.
Where was your first encounter with Sarah ?
I did not meet Sarah right away. For two months, I tracked the area she worked to find places for my photographs. I stumbled upon this hidden spot where there were mattresses, a patch of forest and a bridge. Even without people, it was a magical place. A month later I was back at the bridge, I met Sarah and asked if I could photograph her. At first she said no, telling me, “I don’t have the right hair”. Eventually she agreed; I took a picture very quickly – not very well – and after the shooting, she said, “Jean, you can come back. I want to work with you”. It was very ambiguous. I only later understood what those words meant.
The series is very intimate and personal. Was it difficult to build a relationship with Sarah, and gain her trust?
Sarah never had confidence in me, she just knew I was a little different, a little crazy and that this could potentially serve her some day. She never really understood what I was doing in Italy, but between the sequestration and exploitation by her ‘employers’ and the €30 sex deals with her customers, I was probably the only normal person in her universe. It wasn’t until much later that she realized what I was doing was proper photography work.
One of the most unnerving things about the photographs is that we never see Sarah’s face. Was this simply down to privacy reasons, or was it an artistic decision?
We had a deal that I would not show her face. The series was risky for her, and I had to protect her. Also, I felt it was not a necessity: when you’re shown a face, an immediate reaction of comparison is triggered by the viewer. But if we hide something, it creates a kind of ambiguity which grows into positive curiosity. People who see Sarah’s images react with disgust, but also enormous curiosity. This is the effect I want to have in my photographs.
We can tell by Sarah’s provocative outfits she is in the sex trade. What they might not reveal is that this was forced prostitution – how did this come about, and how did she escape the situation?
Sarah traveled with a group from Ghana to Greece. In Athens she met people who promised her a job as a seamstress in Italy, but upon arrival in Turin, they claimed €50,000 and began threatening her family. After three weeks, they offered her to engage in prostitution, saying that it would not last long. She was sent to a woman who found her a place in the forest, but who said she would have to rent it for €600 a month, in addition to reimbursing her travel costs.
When I met Sarah, she had just begun – this is probably why I could photograph her.
After one year she asked me to help her escape. Initially I suggested she go see an association in Turin, but she wanted to return to Greece to seek asylum. She managed to borrow a friend’s passport and asked me to accompany her to the Milan airport. It was a pretty crazy time – I was simultaneously helping her and completing my work. When we arrived in the airport parking lot, I told her that my help would have to end there. After that point, I was seen as a smuggler. That’s when I realized that she could not read. We went into the airport and I showed her the gate to Athens. In Athens, I immediately put her in touch with associations, and a lawyer specializing in human trafficking cases.
Have you kept in contact?
Yes – I even went to see her. She was well; she began a new life without prostitution. She was living with a friend and took Greek language courses. Unfortunately she attended a Ghanean church in Athens, where the network found her again, kidnapped her and forced her to return to Turin. We were able to pull her out quickly, though, and she now lives in another European country where she is seeking asylum. I’m in touch with her regularly, I’ve never been so involved. Initially I found this strange as it comes out of the frame of photojournalism. But now I find it quite normal. After all, without her, there would be no photographs.
The series is quite shocking and unsettling. Is it your intention to raise awareness of social issues such as sex trafficking?
It is shocking, but I’m not seeking to heighten the offensive side of things. The work about Sarah is not just about prostitution, the series mostly speaks about migration. I never tried to talk about sex in my pictures, I didn’t make pictures with customers, or sexual images; it was totally unnecessary. In fact, I never talked about those things with Sarah. My pictures were simply made to demonstrate how our constraining legal system promotes human trafficking, particularly of women.
You lived in Dublin for two years – what are your favourite things about the city?
Yes, just before Dublin exploded in the boom of the 90s. I didn’t have much money, so would unload crates in Smithfield market in exchange for vegetables in the morning, then would fish salmon and sea trout near Dalkey Islands in the evening. I rode hundreds of kilometres in the city by bike, with a large format camera. I felt wonderfully free.
Will you be back over for the PhotoIreland festival? What are you looking forward to seeing at it?
I’m very happy that the festival has chosen the theme of migration. It is doubly symbolic, because Ireland is a country of immigrants who’ve conquered the world, but secondly it was in Dublin that the European community signed agreements regulating migration in Europe. But above all, I’m delighted to see the different photographic approaches that we all have on this topic. The selection will be very interesting.
Sarah on the Bridge runs at The Copper House Gallery from July 14th – August 4th.
