It's crazy how many doors can be opened with enthusiasm and belief.

I finally decided to stop talking about how much I love photography and start doing something to back it up. Sure, I take photos from my travels and make some pseudo-artistic attempts once in a while, but that will never take me where I want to be. And where is that? Becoming a travel journalist and a photographer. Not necessarily as a profession. As long I can do it as my hobby and have a few people who gain something from it, I'm good. For now I just want to have some means of conveying emotions encountered during my journeys, a complementary tool for telling a story.

I truly believe that once you decide something, once you become certain that now is the moment to reach for your dreams, things start coming together, the everyday events turn into pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together and the further down you go, the clearer and bigger the picture becomes. I found my first puzzle piece on a Friday. 25th January 2013.  His name was Bart Pogoda.

Before leaving for work on the Friday morning, I decided to check the blog of Bart Pogoda, one of the most significant names in polish travel photography. A friend of mine mentioned Bart during our conversation about Poland's photographers and I wanted to see his talent with my own eyes. Bart's blog http://bartpogoda.net/  was not exactly what I expected. Instead of a fancy design and elements of self-promotion taking over the actual artistic content, Bart's blog was genuine. The first impression that I got of its author was that he's just a normal guy, whose photography skills come from sensitivity to world and curiosity, not an inflamed ego and need for recognition. I immediately liked Mr.Pogoda.

One of the things that I find so interesting about Bart's photography is the subject of his photographs. Bart does not provide his audience with the predictable. Most photographers take colourful pictures of women in saris when they go to India, smiling dancers in Cuba and blooming cherry trees in Japan. This is how Bart sees these places:

I was admiring the photographs when suddenly, I got one of those ideas that won't leave you alone until they get realized. My idea wanted me  to write about Bart and his career. So I found his contact details and sent him an email asking if he minds me mentioning him in my blog. Since he agreed, I thought I would push my luck a bit further and asked if I could interview him. To my astonishment he said yes. So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bart Pogoda. Enjoy.

- Tell me about the beginnings of your adventure with photography. Can you remember the first time that you  were holding a camera in your hands? When did photography become something more than just making memories immortal?

B.P:  I remember smiena- an old soviet camera which I got for my 12th or 13th birthday. Then for a long time there was nothing- until in the second year of high school I became an owner of praktica with a 50 mm. lens. Those were the early years of high school and like most of my peers I was looking for tools for self-realisation. A few experiments, a friend helping me develop the negative and make copies of the black and white AGFA material. Nothing more than curiosity and experimenting.  The beginnings were promising- it turned out that the camera takes good photos - they were clear and had the depth of field. Black and white photographs, darkroom, the chemicals, boos about photography and a whole lot of things that every photo-amateur  is interested it. Only later on I realized that you should not focus on the technical aspects but rather concentrate on the photography as a tool for expressing yourself. 2 or 3 years later I started to travel.  

I started taking smiena to my first European hitch-hiking trips, then Balkans and Turkey. Then there was minolta, canon and around 1998 I started getting into this for good. A camera was a travel companion, a notebook, and finally a working tool.

From each trip I have been brining more and more photos and with time I noticed that they evoke positive reactions in those who were looking at them. Thanks to happy coincidences, people I met, my own work and determination I finally started making my dream come true. Photography and writing (alongside blogging) were building my notion of being on the road. Working equals bread, but work is also a large part of life and you ought to love it, or at least like it. I made a choice-probably not a very wise one, against tradition and polish mentality- but there are various ways that can lead to your destination. 


- Reading your blog it's impossible not to be impressed by how many journeys you've been on. Is there a particularly special one?

B.P:  The one that is still ahead of me <smiles>   I think the one that meant the most to me is the trip around the Americas (2001-2002) which re-defined my life. That's when my blog started and thanks to the photos and posts that I was uploading I gained popularity which later on proved to help my work as a photographer. 


- Journeys always bring along some amazing but sometimes also terrifying experiences. Is there a particular event that stands out from your travel memories? 

On my last evening in Santiago I sat for a moment in a park, something I have never done before due to the presence of jineteros and jineteras (they're homeless or really poor people receiving the bare social minimum from the government and aiming at getting out of a foreigner anything they possibly can). I sat on a bench dreaking something that resembled fanta. Five minutes later I was accompanied by Eco and his friend- rastafari, or should I rather say "wannabe" rastafari. The conversation kept on going- travels, marijuana, Marley, music, girls- the guys keep on spinning the conversation and then they take out an empty pastic bottle and off we go, looking for some cheap rum. We go to people's houses, we greet numbers of people, knucle-knucle, ya man, cool and stuff...

Another hour is passing and I am starting to get lost in who is whom in this show. There come the police who check the IDs of the guys with dreadlocks, I seem to be invisible to them. Eco tells me they always need to have IDs on them, police stops them each day. Guys get me to give them some change for food and another bottle of rum (it's no cost for me and I'm curious what's going to happen next). We leave the centre and get to dark slums. Concrete, clay, bushes, a few lampposts, music from each house in front of which sit black men in the blue glow cast by blakcandwhite TVs. New people show up and Eco introduces me to a friend he lives with (in a cardboard shack). I also meet his mum and friend called Luceria or something of the sort. We wander down the strets talking about Haile Sellasie, Fidel, Marley, Che, politics. 

It's time to go and suddenly I realize my situation- I have no clue where I am or how to get home, besides, I am in the slums of Cuba's largest city, far away from the security levels of Varadero and its resorts for German tourists.  Still, I say bye to the guys who show me the road to the centre. It's not too bad, after just five minutes I know where I am. I approach a woman sitting outside of a house to make sure that I'm going the right way. "Para el centro? A la izquierda, si? ". The woman nodds her head and all of a sudden the smile on her face turns into a wild scream. I turn immediaty and see two rusty machetes, half a meter long, and I can feel something pulling me back. Two guys are pulling my backpack, trying to cut off the stripes.  Adrenaline kicks in and I know that my camera and wallet are there. A woman's screams attract people and the intruders run away. I still don't know how I came of out of it without having my head chopped off. An elderly couple offer to protect me and walk to the centre. Phew...I get home ok and go to sleep. I spent the night dreaming of knives, machetes, chicken, jungle, dark faces with sparkling eyes. All of it accompanied by the sound of African drums.