Portraits of Dignity

I am in the refugee camp of Ellinikon, in the Greek Capital, Athens, where 1500 Syrian and Afghan refugees are staying. Men, women, and children have found temporary refuge while awaiting a response from the European Union, hoping to be granted political asylum in any member state. War, like a very deep wound, is etched on every face, in the gestures, the looks, the destiny of those who have suffered from war, as well as those who were born in its midst.

A few brushes, different colored paint, and a piece of cloth lay on the floor. Surrounded by six children with confused eyes. The volunteer instructor gestures towards the children to motivate them to explore with first brushstrokes. Timidly, they start at the edges of the cloth and soon extend to cover all the surfaces. Spontaneous portraits emerge, with relaxed looks, faces, and thoughts that, in that instant, leave behind the war and the scars. For that brief moment, they have left off the cloth.

I’m able to print those first smiles in 4×6 format, and I arrive the next day to give each of them a picture of themselves, one by one. Asal comes running, screaming with a frown, and snatches her photo. She looks at it carefully; she doesn’t smile like the others, or scream out loud like the others; only with a very subtle gesture does she ask, “Who is she?” After a brief silence, she disappears among the multitude with the photograph in her hand.

Two days later, a tall and large man approaches me. He is Badih, the father of Asal. With gestures, he invites me into his tent, filled with covers, clothes, and some toys. In an improvised altar, the photograph of Asal. After sharing tea, he asks me to photograph him with his children.

During the next three weeks, boys and girls, fathers and mothers, cousins, nieces, nephews, and grandparents pose in front of the camera in their best clothing, hijabs, and hairstyles, and in clothing donated from remote areas of the world, made of cloths and colors foreign to their culture.

“Portraits of Dignity is a project that captures photographic images revealing the essential humanity of refugees as they flee the horrors of war and adjust to new cultures. A project that forges collaborative relationships that transform the realities in the act of mirroring, reflection, imagery, and imagination. It moves us to see human beings as a civilization with common challenges, seeking to evolve towards a society that cares for the well-being of all.”

Refugee girl - Elliniko refugee camp, Greece
Afghan girls in princess costumes hold hands in Elliniko refugee camp
A young boy comforts a refugee child playing with bubbles in the Elliniko refugee camp in Greece.
Years after fleeing war and crossing into Europe during the 2015 refugee crisis, hundreds of Syrian and Afghan refugees remain stuck in makeshift conditions at the Eliniko camp in Greece—caught between hope and uncertainty.
A mother and father wait with uncertainty for the EU to provide them with the papers that will allow them to settle in an EU country as Syrian refugees.
Afghan and Syrian children come together in a moment of innocent play, using the tattered remains of an abandoned mannequin found at the former Elliniko airport
An Afghan girl gently holds a printed portrait of herself
“I am Farhad, and I am an artist,” he tells me while painting inside the former Elliniko airport, now a refugee camp.
Afghan girls in princess costumes hold hands in Elliniko refugee camp
Are we there yet?
elliniko-portraits-baw-1280_MG_8123-Edit
A mother and father wait with uncertainty for the EU to provide them with the papers that will allow them to settle in an EU country as Syrian refugees.
Children remain children
An Afghan girl gently holds a printed portrait of herself
Farhad the artist boy
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Afghan girls in princess costumes hold hands in Elliniko refugee camp
A young boy comforts a refugee child playing with bubbles in the Elliniko refugee camp in Greece.
elliniko-portraits-baw-1280_MG_8123-Edit
A mother and father wait with uncertainty for the EU to provide them with the papers that will allow them to settle in an EU country as Syrian refugees.
Afghan and Syrian children come together in a moment of innocent play, using the tattered remains of an abandoned mannequin found at the former Elliniko airport
An Afghan girl gently holds a printed portrait of herself
“I am Farhad, and I am an artist,” he tells me while painting inside the former Elliniko airport, now a refugee camp.
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