I was only nine years old when I left Poland with my parents. That was in 1977. Returning fifteen years later, I felt nostalgia, but I also felt like I was an outsider. This has sometimes been to my advantage, as not being used to the routine of daily life in the country allowed me to detect the magical moments, the unusual and peculiar aspects.
It was important to me to show a people, a country and a culture, such as I had seen in my childhood. Many times, the Polish were surprised when I was photographing the streets and the people, these scenes seeming trivial or ugly. But for me, it was the way back to my memories, memories of times where everything was possible.
Indeed, this Poland of the 90s wasn’t yet standardized, and as well-organized as the Western countries. It was still a country where everyone was tinkering around and mending things as they could, where imagination was the main tool to solve the daily challenges.
It was this improvised side of everyday life that had me most fascinated, and which symbolized this freedom of spirit that I have remembered of this country, where I have yet hardly lived.