It was precisely when I ran into a convoy of caravans in the Parisian suburbs that I met Mickey, Evangelical pastor and clan chief of this community. Over the course of the two months I spent and the bonds I developed with them, I offered French classes, and in the summertime, I was a wedding photographer, and was able to take a few personal snapshots.
My approach does not hold the ambitions of a documentary: I don’t tell the story of a community in these portraits. I was, however, trying to capture its singular energy in a photograph of a young Roma girl struck with a look of surprise, or even a cat attempting to scratch me.
One can observe an incontrolable vibrance, a strain of disobedience to any and every rule; whatever they may be, it is the rough and nearly-frightening overabundance of life that comes through in these photographs.