Logbook /
Jorge Cueto
September 12, 2023
Day 1
I drove fully packed. I Unpacked. I worked with some wise, eccentric characters in the morning. We ate a diner. Today was special, I was downtown. As I prepped for before I imagined her madness. On my drive i remembered. I setup my shoot. I sat for 2 hours fully set. I sat in the harsh summer sun. I didn’t look the world in the eye. When I tried they wouldn’t look me back. The wind ripped off my sign. It fluttered in the wind, sand got wet by the hydrant. I sat there. People walked by. Students, foreigners. Grandmothers, old guys, shirtless tattooed beefcakes , kids on bikes, die hards skaters. Downtown she showed up. She told me about the peoples. I talked to myself as I fotographed. I took months off. I needed to be hungry I needed to be blind. I had lost faith in humanity. I spoke to randoms. Some didn’t want their photo taken.. they told me their perspective. I didn’t judge. They didn’t want people to judge them. I understood. There is alot pain in any city. There it is. But people that did want to talk, they spoke about dreams, about education, creativity, acceptance. There is still much to learn.
Day 2
I did an interview in Spanish in the morning. Today I went to the downtown market. Here the center is called “Downtown”. This morning my first interview was with a Mexican. He was carrying cardboard with his back. I noticed him because the way he carried it was known. The hands, their balance, and the way they walk. I told him I was a photographer. Speaking Spanish was my “ice breaker.” He stopped walking and said “yes”. He told me he was from a small town. That it wasn’t like this.
Maybe he came because of the meteorite. We are all here because of it.
Hice una entrevista en español en la mañana. Hoy fui al mercado del centro. Aqui el centro se llama “Downtown”. Esta mañana mi primer entrevista era con un mejicano. El estaba cargando cartón con su espalda. Me fijé en el porque la forma que lo cargaba era conocido. Las manos, su equilibrio, y la manera de caminar. Yo le dije que era fotógrafo. El hablar español era mi “rompe hielos”. El paró de caminar y me respondió que “si”. Hablamos y me dijo que era de un pueblo pequeño. Que no era nada como Sudbury.
Tal vez vino por el meteorito. Todos estamos aquí por eso.