Morning mist rises mystically from the valley towards the small Yemeni village of Shugruf in the Haraz mountains.
As soon as you hear the word Urbanistan your imagination is whisked off into the traffic mayhem of Calcutta, the tawdriness of the neon sex nightlife in Bangkok, the unbelievable structuralized yet frenzied Tokyo, the suffocating and dusty streets of the (hardly) living body of the decaying Cairo, the roundabout of the hedonistic and aggressive Rio, the unstoppable narcissistic Manhattan, the global supermarket of turbo consumerism. However, Matjaž Krivic’s Urbanistan is a miraculous anti-thesis to all this. It is a story from the other side – a story of the quiet loudness on the margins of total existential, religious, economic and geopolitical chaos. A story that speaks of the indestructible spirit and the eternal search of inspiration that enables survival. It is a story of individuals and social groups who, putting aside the racket and general urban angst, keep searching for the core of existence in a different space and a different time. It is a story of survival through play, prayer, tradition, rituals, travels, socializing and especially, a special light, that the author of the exhibition sees and records so well. Urbanistan is a space that allows you to take a breather from the city. Any city.
The Fula people or Fulani are one of the most widely dispersed and culturally diverse of the peoples of Africa. They live mainly in West Africa and northern parts of Central Africa. Their numbers are estimated at approximately 20 million, but percise numbers are hard to state, because a significant proportion are nomadic, making them the largest pastoral nomadic group in the world. I took a photo of a Fula boy in Diafarabe in Mali, where Fulani are known for their herds of cows. When we met, the boy was carrying shoes in his hands and I realised they were so clapped-out he couldn’t use them anymore. Traveling prepared makes a big differerce and with a sowing needle that I always carry with me on my travels and a dental floss, we patched them up, so he could follow his herd.
As soon as you hear the word Urbanistan your imagination is whisked off into the traffic mayhem of Calcutta, the tawdriness of the neon sex nightlife in Bangkok, the unbelievable structuralized yet frenzied Tokyo, the suffocating and dusty streets of the (hardly) living body of the decaying Cairo, the roundabout of the hedonistic and aggressive Rio, the unstoppable narcissistic Manhattan, the global supermarket of turbo consumerism. However, Matjaž Krivic’s Urbanistan is a miraculous anti-thesis to all this. It is a story from the other side – a story of the quiet loudness on the margins of total existential, religious, economic and geopolitical chaos. A story that speaks of the indestructible spirit and the eternal search of inspiration that enables survival. It is a story of individuals and social groups who, putting aside the racket and general urban angst, keep searching for the core of existence in a different space and a different time. It is a story of survival through play, prayer, tradition, rituals, travels, socializing and especially, a special light, that the author of the exhibition sees and records so well. Urbanistan is a space that allows you to take a breather from the cit
Although Burkina Faso’s population is among the youngest in the world, with almost 50% younger than 12 years, sadly the country also has one of the highest infant mortality rates. The ones who survive the tender and critical infancy are free to play all day and almost everywhere. In Bani I took a photo of Reita and her friends while climbing the minaret of the Grand Mosque.
As soon as you hear the word Urbanistan your imagination is whisked off into the traffic mayhem of Calcutta, the tawdriness of the neon sex nightlife in Bangkok, the unbelievable structuralized yet frenzied Tokyo, the suffocating and dusty streets of the (hardly) living body of the decaying Cairo, the roundabout of the hedonistic and aggressive Rio, the unstoppable narcissistic Manhattan, the global supermarket of turbo consumerism. However, Matjaž Krivic’s Urbanistan is a miraculous anti-thesis to all this. It is a story from the other side – a story of the quiet loudness on the margins of total existential, religious, economic and geopolitical chaos. A story that speaks of the indestructible spirit and the eternal search of inspiration that enables survival. It is a story of individuals and social groups who, putting aside the racket and general urban angst, keep searching for the core of existence in a different space and a different time. It is a story of survival through play, prayer, tradition, rituals, travels, socializing and especially, a special light, that the author of the exhibition sees and records so well. Urbanistan is a space that allows you to take a breather from the city. Any city.
In Yemen, although the government provides for compulsory, free education for children ages six through 15, a lot of children, especially in remote, rural areas become shepherds at an early age and never learn to read and write. This boy, living in the vicinity of Thula, a town well-known for its prototypical massive stone architecture, is enjoying his last years of childhood, before he is going to be married and will resume family obligations. Hopefully his children will be able to go to school.
As soon as you hear the word Urbanistan your imagination is whisked off into the traffic mayhem of Calcutta, the tawdriness of the neon sex nightlife in Bangkok, the unbelievable structuralized yet frenzied Tokyo, the suffocating and dusty streets of the (hardly) living body of the decaying Cairo, the roundabout of the hedonistic and aggressive Rio, the unstoppable narcissistic Manhattan, the global supermarket of turbo consumerism. However, Matjaž Krivic’s Urbanistan is a miraculous anti-thesis to all this. It is a story from the other side – a story of the quiet loudness on the margins of total existential, religious, economic and geopolitical chaos. A story that speaks of the indestructible spirit and the eternal search of inspiration that enables survival. It is a story of individuals and social groups who, putting aside the racket and general urban angst, keep searching for the core of existence in a different space and a different time. It is a story of survival through play, prayer, tradition, rituals, travels, socializing and especially, a special light, that the author of the exhibition sees and records so well. Urbanistan is a space that allows you to take a breather from the city. Any city.
Arzuma Tindano (28) leads an eight-member crew of miners at Djuga, an artisanal mine in north-eastern Burkina Faso. They all trust him. They believe in his strength and his judgment.
His ‘office’ is a 20 meters deep, narrow, dangerous and claustrophobic pit. The air there is thick, hot and humid with constant dust atacking his longs. He is just about to go into his pit again to do his night shift after he finishes his cigarete. Working in the night is better, he says, because the air is a bit cooler.
Salt miners from a Tavua village are loading their truck with salt.
Local people will get the most effected by the lithium mining in the area.
According to Bolivian law the lithium revenues should be equally distributed – the local community is entitled to a 15% cut. The rest goes to the regional government in Potosi and to the central authorities.
Since 2016 none of it was paid to local communities.
Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia 2017
Although majority of visitors to Varanasi in India are interested in the religious and spiritual side of this most sacred Indian city, I wanted to portray the everyday life of its inhabitants as well.
In a local akhara (wrestling school), I took a photo of the local boys during their training called vyayam. They should build strength, develop muscle bulk and flexibility for a traditional Indian wrestling discipline called Kushti or Pehlwani.
As soon as you hear the word Urbanistan your imagination is whisked off into the traffic mayhem of Calcutta, the tawdriness of the neon sex nightlife in Bangkok, the unbelievable structuralized yet frenzied Tokyo, the suffocating and dusty streets of the (hardly) living body of the decaying Cairo, the roundabout of the hedonistic and aggressive Rio, the unstoppable narcissistic Manhattan, the global supermarket of turbo consumerism. However, Matjaž Krivic’s Urbanistan is a miraculous anti-thesis to all this. It is a story from the other side – a story of the quiet loudness on the margins of total existential, religious, economic and geopolitical chaos. A story that speaks of the indestructible spirit and the eternal search of inspiration that enables survival. It is a story of individuals and social groups who, putting aside the racket and general urban angst, keep searching for the core of existence in a different space and a different time. It is a story of survival through play, prayer, tradition, rituals, travels, socializing and especially, a special light, that the author of the exhibition sees and records so well. Urbanistan is a space that allows you to take a breather from the city. Any city.
Photographing people is not only looking at faces through a lense, it is a very deep and itimate moment I establish with the person. Sometimes it is just a brief moment, other times lasting friendships have been formed. I was sitting alone along the lake Sarovar in Amritsar in India, admiring an old Sikh pilgrim during his ritual washing in the lake with the most famous place of worship for the Sikhs in the backgrund. For a moment we had a great interaction but a few minutes later more than 30 people behind me were looking, some trying to capture the same image and I don’t know which one of us was more embarassed, he as an object of keen photpgraphers or me for distrurbing his peace of mind.
As soon as you hear the word Urbanistan your imagination is whisked off into the traffic mayhem of Calcutta, the tawdriness of the neon sex nightlife in Bangkok, the unbelievable structuralized yet frenzied Tokyo, the suffocating and dusty streets of the (hardly) living body of the decaying Cairo, the roundabout of the hedonistic and aggressive Rio, the unstoppable narcissistic Manhattan, the global supermarket of turbo consumerism. However, Matjaž Krivic’s Urbanistan is a miraculous anti-thesis to all this. It is a story from the other side – a story of the quiet loudness on the margins of total existential, religious, economic and geopolitical chaos. A story that speaks of the indestructible spirit and the eternal search of inspiration that enables survival. It is a story of individuals and social groups who, putting aside the racket and general urban angst, keep searching for the core of existence in a different space and a different time. It is a story of survival through play, prayer, tradition, rituals, travels, socializing and especially, a special light, that the author of the exhibition sees and records so well. Urbanistan is a space that allows you to take a breather from the city. Any city.
Enormous lithium evaporation pools near the Llipi production plant.
Brine is pumped in to this large evaporation pools on the southern edge”Salar de Uyuni”, where it is left to evaporate for many months. It is then processed at Comibol’s Planta Llipi, a lithium process plant near by.
Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia 2016