I left Havana when I was 5 years old; It took 30 some years for me to return with my mother and father. Growing up I had heard the stories about our other life and about all we had lost. I had to pull Havana from under it’s bell jar and see it without the politics and nostalgia I had grown up with and experience Havana as if visiting a sunken ship with it’s myriad of treasures that had been preserved by neglect.

In so re-visiting my birthplace, I have been able to make some sense of it all, where memory and reality meet and how this has molded me into the artist I am today.

Many of these photos are being seen here for the first time; They were shot using an old Nikon SLR which my father gave me as a teenager.