Author: Luca

The future of Ukraine is being played out on platform number 5 of the Lviv station, the city on the border with Poland and the most European Ukrainian city (725,000 inhabitants). The capital is the symbol of the resistance against the Russian invader; the Lviv platform, from which the trains to Poland depart, is the path that leads hundreds of thousands of women and children, families of combatants, to safety. Convoys from all over the country arrive non-stop at the magnificent style station Art Nouveau Inaugurated in 1904 under the reign of Emperor Francisco José I. The monumentality of the building dwarfs the humanitarian catastrophe that it houses these days. More than half of the 2.5 million refugees from Ukraine, according to the UN, have crossed into Poland, the vast majority from Lviv. Every day that passes, the displaced from the front arrive in greater numbers. On the platforms, however, a surprising calm prevails, while thousands of people crowd outside. Over the days, the order and distribution of the crowd has improved. The authorities have managed to keep the platforms clear. In the queues there are hardly any discussions despite the fact that the wait can be more than 24 hours. On the walls of the station there are many announcements and instructions for those who arrive in Lviv: a notice reminds men that they must register at the Army offices and that they cannot leave Ukraine. A note summarizes the two options (by bus or by train) that women have to continue to the border with Poland, 70 kilometers away. Taking the train has an advantage over the bus: it can disembark the refugees directly at the Polish station in Przemysl. Traveling by bus means spending at least one day inside the vehicle and walking no less than two hours to the line at the Shehyni border post, opposite Poland. (Text by Luca Catalano Gonzaga).

In the district of Ngorongoro, Masai communities face a constant threat of eviction from their ancestral land in favor of the expansion of protected areas, dedicated to safari tourism and the super-elite big game. Although their traditional lifestyle was based on raising cattle, today the Masai also need to practice agriculture. They lead the cattle from one pasture to another, to give the grass a chance to grow back; once, these movements were guaranteed by a system of collective land ownership, which gave everyone the opportunity to share access to water and pastures. Now, they are also losing the only permitted alternative, livestock farming, as the land dedicated to grazing is becoming increasingly scarce while communities, which demographically are growing, are grouped in increasingly limited areas. The Masai thus find themselves confined to the most arid and sterile areas of the country. The interference of the authorities is aimed at changing their system of community access to land with the excuse of giving more space to the protection of fauna, but in reality the goal is to intensify elite tourism. Today the natives are reduced to misery. Handmade huts are the only refuge of this ancient and proud people who traditionally follow a life of their own, with their own rules, and which have a strong bond with their ancestral land. An ecological question has therefore become a humanitarian question. Is it fair that more and more tourists visit the National Parks, while the natives are pushed to the margins in conditions of extreme poverty? (text by Luca Catalano Gonzaga).

 

The Maasai live in kraals of extended families, which today have come to be popularly known as bomas. This is a large circular thorn enclosure containing huts and animal pens to protect the family and their cattle from predators. Every wife has her own hut where she lives with her children. A son starting his household chooses one end of the boma and builds his house. The Maasai hut is oval with a curved roof. It is built by the women with sticks, grass and cow-dung mixed with ash and it is their job to mantain the structures by smearing them with cow-dung from time to time to prevent leaks. The interior is very dark to keep away the flies that roam around the goats and herds of cows. Traditionally, the Maasai are polygamous. The bigger the herd, the more people  will be needed to tend the cattle. A Maasai woman has a chain of duties to perform dor the family: she must build and repair the huts, fetch water, collect firewood, milk cows and take care of the children. When there are two or three wives in the household, the work is shared. Thus, for the Maasai, polygamy is more a way of survival than a sign of prestige. Young girls in the family help thei mothers with the house chores and also sometimes help their brothers to graze calves close to the boma. Driving cattle to the pastures is largely the work of the younger boys who have not yet undergone the circumcision rite of passage. When cattle are driven further away, the junior warriors may join in. (text by Luca Catalano Gonzaga).

I am pleased to share my archive in black and white film, before my decision to devote myself entirely to documentary photography as a way of life.

Though COVID-19 pandemic is still ongoing, looking to the next future, what is going to change in our healthcare management? What will be the clinical protocol to use until a vaccine or a decisive treatment will be available?

Citizens and health carers in most of developed countries are facing the most sever pandemic of the century. The crisis triggered by Coronavirus is critically testing, on top of public healthcare efficacy and its accessibility, its very resilience. That is, the system ability to adapt effectively to an abrupt shock or to a sudden change. An essential feature to face an emergency that may continue for a long time and happen again in our future.

These thoughts gave birth to the photographic project “Public Healthcare in the time of Coronavirus” by Luca Catalano Gonzaga aiming to tell how the rules of behaviour and protection when entering health facilities have changed, and emphasizing the importance of designing healthcare models able to adjust to the crisis.

Photography is a universal language, its narration can involve public opinion profoundly, often more than words do, and it shows to the observer the most authentic soul of the extraordinary professionality and humanity from health carers in their daily relationship with patients, in a time when necessary social distance rules are making it more complex.

Through the eye and the sensibility of Luca Catalano Gonzaga, the change occurred inside each single San Camillo Forlanini Hospital division is told by its protagonists: patients, doctors, nurses and auxiliaries.

Bangladesh is located on the deltas of several major rivers flowing into the Bay of Bengal. The country’s position on such alluvial plain involves little natural rock available, that is necessary for bricks making, the main material for buildings construction. To meet this demand, there are approximately 5.000 privately operated bricks kilns in the country, including 1.000 around the capital Dhaka. Men and women emigrate to the outskirts of cities and work here as they did 150 years ago: they collect the clay from humid areas, mix it with water, shape bricks with their hands, let them dry in the sun, and then make them “cook” in the traditional ovens. The furnaces activity has serious consequences on workers’ health and the surrounding environment. Bangladeshi furnaces are estimated to release more than 9.8 million tons of greenhouse gases into the air on a yearly basis. Smoke from smokestacks harms eyes, lungs and throats, endangering workers health and surrounding villages. In addition, approximately 25% of the national timber production is used as fuel for furnaces, causing massive deforestation. In the bricks trap, not only adults are entangled, but also children. They work for hours, earning as much as the adults do, because the daily pay depends on the number of bricks one can carry. “Under the weight of bricks” is a photo-reportage by Luca Catalano Gonzaga, funded by the Nando and Elsa Peretti Foundation. (text by Luca Catalano Gonzaga).