Bradley Secker calls it the Syrian Nakba, a new disaster that has uprooted hundreds of thousands from their homes, in echo of the 1948 tragedy that hit the people of Palestine.
The Istanbul-based photographer explains how he chose to chronicle the unfolding tragedy of the Syria’s refugee
National View - What was the inspiration for this project? Can you talk us through the thought process in refining the idea once you had the initial spark?
Bradley Secker - The idea came when I was thinking about what items people retained from their homes when they become refugees. I thought of the Palestinian Nakba keys as a point of reference and asked my Syrian housemate if he had his keys, he said yes, so I took a few frames of them. I realised that if I was going to make a series out of the images I’d have to have some stable elements, so the black background and the natural lighting were vital.
NV - When did you start the project and how do you find your subjects?
BS - The first key was shot sometime in the late summer of 2013. After a few days of asking friends in Antakya, where I was living at the time, most told me they had their front door keys. I asked them to bring the keys with any key chains they had attached.
Many of the first subjects were my friends or friends of friends as word spread, but then I managed to gain access to a refugee camp in Islahiye, where I had been on assignment previously for a couple of visits. I went with my black sheet, some printed copies of other images from the series, and the same set of questions I ask each person.
People were amazingly responsive and positive to the idea and kids were running back to their tents asking their relatives to bring me their keys. It was more time consuming than I had originally thought, as Syrian hospitality meant frequent stops for tea and listening to personal tales.
NV - Arguably human hands are the second most expressive part of the body after the face, but only proper technique translates that expressiveness visually. Is there a different approach to doing what is portrait of a hand as apposed to a face? How do you work with your subject to end up with the right image?
BS - I agree that the hands are a very expressive part of the body. I asked participants to hold the keys in a way that expressed how they missed or felt about their home. Sometimes people just left the key in their open palm, whilst others such as Wael clenched the keys through his fist.
In the case of photographing refugees from Syria this was a much easier project than others I’ve worked on in the past as many people still insist on not having their faces photographed.
The idea that the series had a likening to the Palestinian Nakba keys was quite sad for several of the participants in the refugee camp, which said they never thought they would end up like the Palestinians; displaced indefinitely.
NV - You offer the view a very limited amount of information about the subject, both visually and in text, was this a conscious decision? Without knowing such details as religion or political affiliation, do you feel you keep the viewer from applying pre-conceived notions of who these people might be?
BS - Hands provide a clear marker of age and often gender, whilst key chains and ornaments attached to them tell a little more about the individual.
I decided to only put first names to prevent judgement on religion and background as much as possible, and although the location of some participants gives clues to more about who they might be, the point of this series is to make the statement that all Syrians are being displaced and having their lives turned upside-down. No matter what political perspective, religious belief, location or age, refugees are fleeing from pretty much every town and city in Syria.
NV - The pretty mundane concept of hands and house keys are a very effective way to allow people everywhere to relate to these Syrians. Were there other connections made with the subjects based on the common, the every day?
BS - That’s one of the beautiful things about this photo series. The pretty mundane concept of hands and house is an effective tool to help the viewer connect. The hands could be yours or those of your family or friend, and as the keys are modern and generic they could also belong to anyone, pretty much anywhere.
NV - As you're working on this project you must be hearing a lot of stories from your subjects. Are there any you care to share?
BS - Everyone is keen to tell their personal stories during the image making. The stories are as varied as individuals telling me that their home no longer exists, that they only have the key and will carry it with them everywhere as a memory of what it was. Some firmly believe that they will return one day, others told me about the air strikes that destroyed their homes.
Hael from Deir Ezzor told me about their home which is in a regime controlled area of the city, and how his mother crosses the Euphrates on a small fishing boat, over the frontline to get food and home supplies. Mahmoud and Samer told me of how their homes were their places of safety and sanctuary. Safwan told me about he had lived and worked on his land for his whole life and was tired of looking at Syria from the refugee camp across the border fence. Riham remembered breakfast and coffee with her family around the kitchen table.
NV - Syrian Nakba is currently an on-going project for you. Sadly there is no end in sight to the conflict in Syria, do you have any sense of when or how you'll know this project is complete?
BS - Sadly you’re right. There seems to be no end in sight for the Syrian conflict and the unfolding humanitarian catastrophe. I intend to get at least one hundred keys over the next two months. I want to end up with a body of work that is shocking in scale, to make the viewer stop and contemplate the sheer scale of this crisis. Each photograph represents a family, an individual, a life destroyed, not having a home.
Whenever I have the opportunity to photograph a set of keys I will. I’m not sure it will ever be complete.
