Cyclo

I have been drawn to the backdrop as a way to isolate the subject from the things that surround them. I grew to appreciate that you don’t need a studio. It is enough to create a deliberate separation between the person and their environment.

I took this idea with me as I jumped on the back of a small motorbike with my friend and minder Mr Thanh to document the cyclo drivers of Saigon. In the time I’d been in Ho Chi Minh City, the number of taxi companies had grown from two to dozens. Quick, clean and convenient, these new taxis contrasted with the aging and weathered cyclos that had long been part of the city’s rhythm. The days of the cyclo were numbered and I wanted to meet the people who still relied on them.

Thanh and I rode around far-flung districts of Saigon carting a large metal camera case, a heavy tripod and, wedged awkwardly between us, a roll of stiff white card we’d use as a backdrop. The people in these neighbourhoods had less of the practiced hustle of those in the city centre. The cyclo drivers we encountered were curious, if a little bemused. Crowds gathered around as I set up my gear, battling the heat and humidity, all the while keeping an eye on my cameras. The chaos was uncomfortable. Thanh handled the conversations – negotiating the shoot and keeping everyone as organised as the situation allowed. As translator, assistant, fixer and social buffer, Thanh was the glue that held the project together.

I quickly gave up trying to tape the backdrop to walls and fences. Instead, Thanh would recruit bystanders and other cyclo drivers to hold the backdrop while someone had their picture taken. This became a feature of the final portraits in which hands, arms and faces sneak into the frame. The backdrop itself became part of the images as it deteriorated over the weeks. The very thing that was meant to isolate the subject from the visual noise around them began to invite the surroundings back into the portrait.

We hung around for a while after each photoshoot. The drivers talked about how they’d come to the city – some from rural areas, some after military service—taking up the cyclo as a stop gap job but, for most of these guys, it had stretched on for years.

Cyclos are now largely a novelty for visitors. Their decline was already underway back then and the portraits captured something of the transition. Looking back, the project feels necessary, but the images reveal only half the story. The very human experience of making these portraits remains as significant to me as the portraits themselves.