My mother introduced me to Cuba long before I ever set foot on the island. She traveled there with my father in the 1950s, and the Cuban people left an indelible impression on her heart. Cuba in the 1950s was a vibrant and glamorous Caribbean destination and a famous playground for all those who dared! As my mother's 80th birthday approached, I asked her where in the world she would most like to celebrate such an important milestone. Without hesitation, she answered, Cuba!
At the time, Cuba was off-limits to American travelers, but that did little to deter us from pursuing her dream. We entered Cuba in the darkness of night via Jamaica like two schoolgirls doing something terribly wrong. And as planned, we celebrated her birthday in Havana. That journey was incredibly special - not simply because we were in Cuba but because we experienced it together. Sharing Cuba with my mother and seeing the island through the lens of her memories created a lasting connection with the island I couldn't have anticipated. What she saw almost 50 years after her first visit there was unrecognizable, but what remained the same was the kindness of the Cuban people.
A few years later, I returned with her for what would be her final trip to Cuba. After that, I continued to visit the island many times carrying the love for Cuba that my mother passed on to me. From the moment I first set foot on the island, I knew it was the beginning of a long and special friendship. My mother gave me many meaningful gifts during my lifetime but opening the door to Cuba was one of the greatest.
As a photographer, I have always found that wandering the streets and engaging with people comes naturally in Cuba. I am drawn to the crumbling colonial architecture, the patina of days gone by and the Latin rhythm of daily life that spills from the home into the street. However, it is the enduring spirit of the Cuban people that pulls me back to the island. With hands outstretched, Cubans are welcoming at every turn. A simple smile or "hola" can open a door, and the next thing you know, you are sitting in the home of someone who was a stranger only moments before.
Nothing seems to diminish the strength of the Cuban spirit. Peeling back the layers of the island has provided me with an endless string of experiences and a deeper understanding of the soul of the island. Camera in hand, I try to capture more than what is immediately visible—the dignity of the Cuban people, their resilience, and our shared humanity.
Over time, I realized that color was not always necessary to express the story I wanted to tell. The saturated colors that Cuba is so famous for are undeniably beautiful, but behind them lies a heavier reality—one that has surfaced through repeated visits. Cuba does not easily reveal herself and much remains beneath the surface to be slowly peeled away.
Over the course of 12 visits, I have traveled throughout Cuba—from the Caribbean Sea in the south to the Atlantic Ocean in the east and northeast, and northward to the Gulf of Mexico and the Straits of Florida. And still, there is so much more to see, experience, and understand. I already long for my next visit.
However, when I returned in January 2024, the island felt different. I had seen Cuba change but this time the struggles facing its people seemed increasingly visible. Shortages of food, fuel, medical supplies, electricity and other necessities had become part of daily life. Covid had taken its toll across the island. Some towns were completely boarded up and abandoned. Many of the young had fled to seek employment elsewhere if possible. Food and money had become increasingly scarce on the island. The Cuban family nucleus had started to splinter. Behind the eyes of the many people I photographed was a deep and hidden sadness. A hollowed look that cried for help without words.
It was easy to recognize a growing uncertainty among many young Cubans, hesitant to leave their parents and grandparents, yet equally aware of the limited opportunities available if they stayed. The limited internet, family members living abroad and occasional unfiltered news offered a glimpse of another way of life. Meanwhile, many older Cubans, without the means to travel, had resigned themselves to remaining in the homeland they love. Leaving Cuba was akin to ripping their hearts out.
The Cuban family has always impressed me with its strength and closeness, and it is difficult to watch that bond being challenged by distance and circumstance. Yet despite everything, the enduring spirit of the Cuban people persists. Their pride in their country and heritage is always visible, and their ingenuity never ceases to amaze me. With very little, they find ways to make something out of almost nothing. I often find myself smiling and thinking, *if only I were so clever.*
My journey to Granma Province in 2024 added another layer to my understanding of Cuba. It is a remote and rarely visited part of the island, filled with spectacular coastlines, mountainous regions, and traditional small towns. Rarely travelled by outsiders we were welcomed into our home stays with warmth and kindness.
The journey itself was not always easy. Blackouts, flat tires, potholed dirt roads, and the daily challenge of finding gasoline became part of the experience. But somehow, the journey always continued.
Granma Province also deepened my connection to Cuba's history. Named for the yacht *Granma*, which carried Fidel Castro, Che Guevara, and 82 rebels to Cuba in 1956, the region is closely tied to the beginning of the Cuban Revolution. Standing in a place so connected to the country's complicated past added yet another piece to my understanding of the island.
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Just when I think I have begun to understand Cuba, I return home and realize that I have only skimmed the surface. I will always have a connection of the heart with the people who welcomed me there. That is my greatest treasure. My first journey will remain among the most meaningful because I shared it with my mother. Cuba was part of her story before it ever became such an important part of mine. Every time I return, I carry a little of her with me.
Cuba has changed. I have changed. My photography has changed, but my portraits of the Cuban people are among my favorites. My relationship with the island has only deepened with time. As long as there are still stories to tell, people to meet, and pieces of the puzzle waiting to be discovered, I imagine Cuba will continue to call me back.
See more of my Cuba works here:
The Spirit of Cuba
Faces of Cuba
Cuba Inside and Out
