Skopje, North Macedonia 1994

In 1994, I returned to my hometown of Skopje for the first time in four or five years. By this time, I had been immersing myself in the work of photography masters during long breaks from my double shifts in a restaurant hungrily exploring at Waterstones in Piccadilly, the astonishing work of Robert Capa, Dorothea Lange, and many others.  I already had a sense of where and how to capture the kinds of images I had been studying in those books. During this visit, I documented the city and surrounding villages, capturing the life I had left behind years before. The atmosphere was heavy: the wars in Bosnia and Croatia were raging, the economic situation was dire, and the fear of conflict spilling over was palpable. The images I made were sombre and unembellished, reflecting the weight of that time. 

On my return to my improvised tiny darkroom in London, I developed the few rolls of film I had brought back from Skopje. I immediately knew I was far from being my favorite photographers, but I was pleased with what I had captured. The feedback I received, and the satisfaction of creating these images, made me realise that photography would not be a passing phase.