Back when I was studying photography, it made me uncomfortable to take shots of strangers in the street. Without their permission, it seemed like I was stealing images of them. It’s important for me to build up relationships with those I photograph, and the first time it felt right for me was when I went to Russia for my graduation project. I didn’t speak the language so I carried a note in Russian that I showed people, asking if I could spend a night in their homes. I would be treated like part of the family which made it OK for me to take pictures. I later used a similar approach in the US and in Egypt, while a chance encounter with a woman called Agata in a Parisian strip bar led to a collaboration that lasted five years.
This shot is of Michael, whom I met randomly on the streets of Portland, Oregon, in 2015. We started to talk and, when I asked where he lived, he invited me to his house. Inside, the walls were covered with images: photos, clippings from magazines, things he had written. It was a scene I couldn’t have invented or predicted.
