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To you these are pictures. To me they are the people that I love. They are people who have lost everything: their home, their family, their sanity. But they still have their dignity and that is one thing that I plan on keeping. In all honesty I am motivated by a true sense of love, if I was not I would not be doing this. I feel inadequate as an artist, as a writer. But that does not matter because it’s not about me, it’s about those people and I must stay faithful to them. They gave me their voice and I cannot betray their hope because of my feelings or short comings. I cannot tell you how many times I have had someone show up at 2 in the morning in tears, how many times women have undressed to show me the scars from beating or cigarette burns. I cannot even begin to tell you how it feels to look into someone’s eyes and feel completely powerless as they tell me their personal tragedy. They have no voice but through me they have contact to the outside world. And I know if they had the resources that I have they would do a far better job at raising awareness then I ever could.

I believe in these people and I also believe in the people from my home town. I think that the first step to changing the world is empathy. If I can get someone to realize that Emanuel Mami is just as real as they are then they will begin to empathize with his plight. That he is a 6 year old boy just like your 6 year old boy. He is a child that has every right to a wonderful future but stuck in a situation where the future seems everything but that. If I can get people to empathize with Melvina Sherman’s plight then present them with an opportunity to change her life in a significant way by purchasing a portrait then I have done my part.

Here is an excerpt from an article I am writing. It is about my last day with Emanuel Mami, a 6 year old refugee form Sierra Leone.

“Emanuel jumped into my arms comforted by a strength he has never felt: a father’s embrace. In a quiet voice he whispered into my ear: “I will follow you. But I knew this would never happen, soon too I would vanish and become a fading memory. Vanish like his parents, like the life he never had. We spent our last day together registering for school and taking pictures. The sun was setting as he stood there like a statue; eyes wide open, afraid to move a muscle. As I took that last picture he gave me something, something that is so rare in this God forsaken place. He gave me all of the emotion and desire that his eyes could hold and he stood there staring (lips pursed, he was screaming) afraid that I might miss it. At that moment Emanuel Mami gave me his hope and that is something that I cannot betray. It is something that I cannot hide because of my fears of being inadequate as an artist as a writer. Its not about me, it’s about Emanuel and the fact that his life is worth saving.