Curing the pandemic: I chose hands

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‘Blessed are the moments, and the millimetres 
and the shadows of small things, 
even more humble than the things themselves! ‘ 
Fernando Pessoa

Francesca SIRNA, sociologist at the CNRS in Marseilles, invited me to collaborate as an artist-photographer on her research into the careers of foreign-trained hospital staff in the south of France and their experience during the SARCOV-19 pandemic. She felt that words were not enough to express the suffering witnessed by most of the people interviewed, a suffering that concerned both their professional careers and their experiences as migrants.
Of course, not all the people interviewed spoke of a painful path, but for each of them their professional choices had an important and definitive influence on their personal and family life.
Francesca's reason for adding images to the story accompanied me on this extremely rich human and, at times, moving adventure.
The time spent with the people photographed was short, depending on their availability and, above all, because of the difficulties in obtaining permission to photograph in hospitals. 
However, the short duration of an interview remains an intense moment, during which the person narrates the path that brought them here, in an effort of memory that makes them relive strong emotions. 

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I am grateful to them: even if imperceptibly, their stories have transformed me profoundly.

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MY WORK AS A PHOTOGRAPHIC ARTIST

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In my work as a photographic artist, the relationship is more important than aesthetics, technique and linearity of narration. Each time I describe the story of an encounter, the one between me and the photographed person. His speech is intertwined with mine. The camera unites us, separates us, marks time and determines the rhythm of our mutual approach. 
I do not use the screen of the digital camera. I prefer to look through the viewfinder, to close one eye to protect myself from the intrusive light and any temptation from the world outside. The lens softens my shyness a little, raises my threshold of modesty and I have the impression that it allows the person in front of me to feel seen, heard, perhaps loved... why not? 

Photography is above all a question of humanity.

I never decide in advance what I want or what I expect from an encounter. Instead, I ask myself what we will be able to do together at a given moment and how my camera will document this unique event.

Whatever happens, we will be surprised.

THE SHOTS

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Most of the photographs were taken at the project participants' homes, at their workplaces and in the surrounding area. On some occasions, we visited the most significant places related to their profession and those they frequented during the pandemic. 

The protagonists of the research validated the photographs chosen for the exhibition and actively collaborated in the narrative.

Some panels display their old pictures and photographs that they took of themselves specifically so that I could use them in the context of the research project. 
Domenico recreated the days of his first family confinement and filmed himself with his mobile phone. Matteo sent me photographs of that time spent in hospital surrounded by his team - shots that unfortunately I could not use due to permission issues. During the shoot, however, I was able to film some of his colleagues on the hospital terrace and witness an exemplary team cohesion. 
With Olga, I visited the university premises where she studied for her countless degrees. Visiting the same places again, Khaled realised that the university is still an impractical place for him because of the pressure he experienced there. During a trip Khaled sent me a photo of his hand together with that of his son and wife. It was important for his wife to appear in this story as she has been a fundamental support and presence at his side during his studies and to this day. 

It was a great pleasure for me to document the defence of Ilyes' thesis on people with multiple disabilities in France, which marked the end of a successful career. 

Francesca expressed her state of mind during the pandemic with an ironic image inviting people not to leave their homes lest they get sick and end up being intubated by a neurologist! The specificity of her work at La Timone hospital in Marseilles is the use of an apparatus called MEG (magnétoencelographie) that we photographed. Antoine twice welcomed Francesca SIRNA and me to his home. His mother agreed to pose with him, sitting between two paintings of Beirut. At Antoine's house there were various interesting things, many of them reminiscent of Lebanon. Among them was a photograph of Mikhal Naimy, Lebanese poet and writer, and a quote from him in Arabic :

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‘If human beings had known God, they would not have divided him into Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist and pagan. For a human being does not shed the blood of another human being, nor does he hate another human being for the sake of God’.

In Rachida's house, there were objects that reminded one of Algeria. I enjoyed photographing her world in the light of an autumn sunset. On that day, objects (definition of object: any concrete, material thing, which can be perceived by the senses; in particular something produced by man) seemed really important to me for the realisation of this work. 
Being a migrant myself, I know the attachment to things that accompany us on our journey (definition of thing: object that is related to a subject that holds it). They are objects that allow us to weave a thread with a head and a tail, a bond that helps us orient ourselves in space, time, in the confusing world of emotions, and that allows us to retrace our path backwards without getting lost, as it was for Arianna.

And it is also a thread that protects, that nourishes, that confirms an origin and measures the path travelled as the umbilical cord can be for a newborn child, until it is cut. In fact, if we unfortunately have to part with these objects, we have the impression that something dies.  Since leaving inevitably entails a loss, parting with a memory confirms that the damage is irreparable. It confronts us with the fact that, even if we return, nothing will be as we left it. Even we, as we were then, no longer exist.
 
As a result of these reflections, I explicitly asked Ilyes, Francesca, Samad and Khaled to bring me, if they so wished, anything that aroused in them a feeling of belonging, of connection and continuity with their country, their culture, their language, their family of origin... something dear to them.
During the filming Ilyes brought his prayer mat with him, Samad showed me a canvas bag noted down by his friends when he left for Marseilles. Francesca sent me a photo of the cat she had brought with her from Italy and who passed away in France. Her name was Saki, called Caco', and she was beautiful. On the day of the interview Khaled put a pendant with the names of his children around his neck.

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I CHOSE HANDS

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During the interviews, as I photographed the participants in the research project, I noticed how facial expressions were evocative of their inner lives and how they naturally induced empathy for their experiences, for the vicissitudes they evoked. During the isolation, however, our mouths and noses were covered by masks, we could only see our eyes, and we learnt how important it was to wash our hands thoroughly to avoid contagion. 
Suddenly, hands that worked, that auscultated, that operated, that visited, that helped give birth, that wrote, that touched, that gesticulated, that ordered, that asked, that received, that prayed, that pointed, that tapped, that made and unmade alliances, that caressed, that hid tears and laughter were guilty of transmitting a deadly virus.
In the course of this work, I have dwelt at length on hands and have chosen to represent them in the same way as eyes and faces, because I find them beautiful and sometimes unexpected in the sense that they can be disjointed from the rest of the person. A face, a body or a personality does not always have the hands one expects.

But, above all, I think I chose hands because it is with them that we most often take care of each other.

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THE GRAPHIC WORK

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The graphic work subsequently realised by Cinzia Liverano & Gaia Rizzitano for graphic-gc and graphic-gc.it is inspired more by the world of cinema than that of documentary film. We play with this cinematic reference to suggest a link between the acclaimed film stars and the 

heroic role of health workers during the pandemic period.
An ironic choice, if you like, but one that requires health professionals to be taken seriously. If it is true that common sense puts health first in defining quality of life, and that the health crisis has made us live this adage with pain, I believe that those who dedicate themselves to caring for others must be recognised according to the same criteria of value and importance.
Through these portraits, I want to invite us to reflect on the rightness of recognising a person solely for their professional skills and the work they do. The compositions include different facets of each participant: gestures, living and working spaces, family members, colleagues, interests, and dwell on the expressiveness and taste of each one. I want to tell of a human complexity that is the richness and uniqueness that each of us brings to the workplace. Taking this into account is, in my view, a preliminary and necessary act for change towards a so-called ‘inclusive’ society. 

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Personal life cannot succumb to work demands or be damaged by extremely difficult and complex career paths.