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Fight clubs are located in the forgotten corners of most American cities. They’re shoehorned into storefronts, basements, or vacant warehouses, usually in the toughest part of town. Inside is a community of fighters, trainers, and hangers-on unknown even to the most ardent boxing fans. The gyms reek of sweat, pounding leather, pounding music, barking trainers, and determination. The gyms are fight factories, sweatshops -- but sweatshops with a mission. In some cases, the local gym is the safest place in the neighborhood. It’s a refuge, a sanctuary, where children and young adults - many of them drawn to the gym by difficulties in their own lives - learn self defense and to channel aggressive impulses in an environment that stresses discipline, hard work, and respect. At some gyms, kids are required to show their report cards before they become members. Other gyms function as de facto day-care centers, with free meals, computers, homework rooms - anything to keep away from the seduction of the street. In communities often polarized by race and ethnicity, gyms are an island of support. It’s a matter of principle as well as practicality. Race, class, even gender are virtually irrelevant in the ring. What matters most are the details of weight, reach, skill, and the indefinable quality that fight people call “heart.” These photographs are from my book, Shadow Boxers: Sweat, Sacrifice and the Will to Survive in American Boxing Gyms.

– Jim Lommasson

American Fight Clubs: Champs Boxing gym – Philadelphia

“As these gyms disappear . . . the essays [in Shadow Boxers] . . . and photographs brought together in this documentary will provide a valuable portrait of this historic American institution.” -- The Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University

American Fight Clubs: Costello Boxing Gym – Philadephia

“Both up to the minute and timeless, Lommasson’s pictures are also affecting, intricate and sometimes just glorious.” – Time Magazine

American Fight Clubs: Azteca Boxing Gym, L.A.

"What the jukebox was to Robert Frank, who traveled America in the 1950s photographing and codifying American culture and life, the heavy bag and spit bucket is to Lommasson, who photographed the effluvia and detritus of more than 100 gyms. Coast to coast and up to Canada, boxing gyms are places of peeling stucco, naked light bulbs and dirty mirrors, his images tell us. But they are also places of contradiction, where boxers tape their hands with the delicacy a ballerina uses to tape her feet, and where gum-ball machines coexist with broken noses." – Victoria Blake, The Oregonian

American Fight Clubs: Joey Eye Gym, Philadelphia

"It is those battles and those dreams that Shadow Boxers captures in a triumphal procession of words and pictures such as no Roman emperor ever dreamed of. This is a book truly for those with a reverence for the traditions of the sport. -- Bert Sugar

American Fight Clubs: Gleason's Gym – NYC

"A great many wonderful writers from W.C. Heinz on down have found worthy material in boxing, and the same can be said of lots of talented photographers. Shadow Boxers is a fine addition to the library of boxing-related works, and you don't have to enjoy or even condone the sport itself to appreciate the book." – Bill Littlefield, NPR

American Fight Clubs: Brewster Wheeler Gym – Detroit

"An insider's vivid, surprising look at a world most of us never get a chance to see—a world of battle-weary veterans and bright-eyed newcomers, of surrogate fathers and ancient skills and sanctuary from the mean streets just outside the door. Not to be missed." – Geoffrey C. Ward, author, Unforgivable Blackness: The Rise and Fall of Jack Johnson

American Fight Clubs: Wild Card Boxing Gym – L.A.

"In portraits and candid shots, of pros and amateurs and youngsters who can’t even reach the speed bag, Lommasson reveals not just the grit and toil of a disappearing world, but also an unexpected sense of community and even of sanctuary. While Shadow Boxers never blinks at the toughness, it does take the reader straight to the heart." –Sports Illustrated

American Fight Clubs: Randy & Ike's Boxing Gym – Paterson, NJ

"The photographs alone are worth the cost of admission. Jim Lommasson approaches his subject with the hard-hitting nostalgia of Annie Leibovitz, alongside whose photos of bluesmen, rockers, and gospel singers these fighter shots necessarily belong." – The Cyber Boxing Zone

American Fight Clubs: Front Street Gym – Philadephia

“As real and as honest and as raw as the paint peeling from the walls.” – Inara Verzemnieks, The Oregonian

To Purchase:

Shadow Boxers: Sweat, Sacrifice & the Will to Survive in American Boxing Gyms
Signed Hardcover: $15.00 including shipping. (I literally have a ton of these book).
Contact: jim@lommassonpictures.com

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Hurricane Katrina devastated one of the most culturally rich and diverse cities in the world. New Orleans is the home of America's most authentic art form, jazz. A true melting pot of racial and ethnic identities and proud traditions, of spiritual beliefs and artistic expression.
These photographs of structures and objects of faith were revealed when the flood waters settled. As I walked the vacant neighborhoods, finding objects in and out of context, rearranged after weeks of floating in a New Orleans stew, I simultaneously felt like an archeologist and perhaps a grave robber. There are those who attempted to attach some kind of religious meaning to this very tragic environmental and human disaster. It isn’t the irony that I find engaging, it’s what the artifacts say about those who once inhabited the now abandoned neighborhoods. Most were poor, they were believers, and they were washed away.

– Jim Lommasson

After The Flood: Near The Levee

"Oh, Mary, don't you weep, don't you mourn Oh, Mary, don't you weep, don't you mourn Didn't Pharaoh's army get drownded? Oh, Mary, don't you weep Cheer up, sisters and don't you cry There'll be good times bye and bye Didn't Pharaoh's army get drownded? Oh, Mary, don't you weep." – Traditional: "O Mary Don't You Weep"

After the Flood: Lower Ninth Ward Near The Levee

"Oh crying won't help you, praying won't do no good, When the levee breaks, mama, you got to lose." - Memphis Minnie: "When The Levee Breaks"

After The Flood: Church Lower Ninth Ward Church

"I've got no time for talkin' I've got to keep on walkin' New Orleans is my home That's the reason why I'm goin' Yes, I'm walkin' to New Orleans I'm walkin' to New Orleans I'm walkin' to New Orleans I'm walkin' to New Orleans." – Fats Domino " Walking to New Orleans"

After The Flood: Korean Church

"But keep your heart out on your sleeve A little bit of stormy weather, thats no cause for us to leave Just stay here baby, in my arms Let it wash away the pain Feels like rain - John Hiatt: “It feels Like Rain”

After The Flood: The Last Supper

"Hey, now trees fell on the island And the houses give away Some they strained and drowned Some died in most every way And the sea began to rolling And the ships they could not stand And I heard a captain crying "God save a drowning man". – Traditional: Wasn't That A Mighty Storm"

After The Flood: Katrina Car Tapes

" Louisiana, Louisiana, they're tryin' to wash us 'way, they're tryin' to wash us 'way . . ." – Randy Newman - "Lousiana 1927"

After The Flood: Choir Robes

After The Flood: Dashboard

"The sea began to rolling the ships they could not land I heard a captain crying Oh God save a drowning man The rain it was a falling and the thunder began to roll The lightning flashed like Hell-fire and the wind began to blow The trees fell on the island and the houses gave away Some they strived and drownded others died every way. " –Traditional: "Wasn't That A Mighty Storm"

After The Flood: Old Testement

"The saints are coming, the saints are coming I say no matter how I try, I realise there's no reply. The saints are coming, the saints are coming I say no matter how I try, I realise there's no reply. I say no matter how I try, I realise there's no reply. I say no matter how I try, I realise there's no reply." – Green Day

After The Flood: St. Roch's Cemetery

"We get along Lord, but not today Cause we gonna wash away We gonna wash away And I got troubles oh, but not today Cause they gonna wash away This old heart gonna take them away" – Joe Purdy: "Wash Away "

After The Flood: Doll

"The flood it took my mother it took my brother too I thought I heard my father cry as I watched my mother go Old death your hands are clammy when you've got them on my knee You come and took my mother won't you come back after me?" – Traditional: "Wasn't That A Mighty Storm"

After The Flood: Mississippi Tent Revival Cross

After The Flood: Unclue Lionel Batiste at Donna's Bar and Grill

"When I die Oh lord please bury me In my high top stetson hat Put gold coins over my eyelids So the boys wil know I died standing pat Get six crapshooting pallbearers Six chorus girls to sing me a song Put a jazz band behind my hearse wagon To raise hell as we roll along Get sixteen coal black horses, to pull that rubber tired hack There's thirteen men going men going to the graveyard Only twelve men are coming back Well, now you've heard my story, well, have another round of booze And if anyone should ever, ever ask you, I've got the St. James infirmary blues!"

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Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan is collaborative photo and oral history project about the trials of homecoming for veterans from the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars. Exit Wounds is a traveling exhibition and a book (Schiffer Publishing, May 2015).

As a society, we need to understand that a consequence of sending soldiers to war is that the war comes home with every veteran. Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan deals with the effects of the United States’ wars in Iraq and Afghanistan by focusing – in photographs and interviews -- on returning American soldiers as they reintegrate into civilian life. It is an ongoing collaborative effort, documenting in images and words the personal experiences and stories of these veterans. In addition to their own experiences, they bring home first-hand knowledge of the impact of war on the civilians caught in the crossfire. The soldiers need to tell their stories, and we need to hear them. We must know the true consequences of their – of our -- actions. We must take responsibility for the aftermath of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan as well as at home.

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"I wouldn't wish war on my worst enemy." – Marine John Fett to his mother.

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"Before we as a people send our youth into war, we have a responsibility and an obligation to fully understand the enormity of what it is we ask them to do. We are asking them to die. We are sending them into horrible situations in which they face horrible decisions and partake in horrible acts. To truly honor the warrior every patriotic American must bear witness to their stories and their pain." – Mary Geddry mother of twice deployed Marine John

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"What is a soldier when you wash the Hollywood away? What is a warrior when you dispel the mythology surrounding their nobility? Everyone needs to know the answer to that question. The voices of those who have relevant experiences must make their struggles known, for their own healing and for the dream of peace." – .Jan Critchfield

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

I don't Know. (A poem). "Katrina's 5. Mom's 25. Mom's going to war–soon, too soon, not soon enough. I don't know. We are watching, "We Were Soldiers." She says, "Mommy, that's war." "Oh, Sweety, don't worry, Momma's just driving trucks." January 15th, no sleep. Making love to him for the last time– maybe–could be–maybe not–I don't know. Kisses. So many kisses, tears, I love you's. I miss you right now! I'm not even gone and I miss you right now! Don't let go of me. I can't get close enough. Tighter. I turned off the alarm. Who needs it. It's January 16th, 4:00AM. I am in the shower with him. He brushes my hair. I put it up according to military regulation. Brown T-shirt, DCU bottoms, tuck in, chinch the belt, wool socks, tan boots. DCU top. IDENTIFICATION TAGS! For just in case. Maybe, could be–maybe not–I don' know. How does a mother say goodbye to her five-year-old child? What kind of goodbye is it? Is it the last goodbye? Maybe, could be, maybe not–I don't know. So kiss her while she sleeps, pat her strawberry blond hair, one last take-it-all-in glance. Turn around–don't look back–keep going and walk out the door. For the last time? Maybe–could be–maybe not–I don't know." – Mandy Martin about leaving for war.

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"What will haunt me for the rest of my life is when we took POW’s. I had so much hatred for them. I didn’t care if they lived or died. I will not go into details on what was done for fear of the law, but things still haunt me. I remember pulling guard on an insurgent that was about to be turned over to the local war lords. He was flex cuffed and shaking so bad, I gave him a smoke and started small talk. At one point I did a little hand gesture to tell him that he was about to get his head cut off, then I took the smoke from him and said something hateful. Things like that still bother me." "I did not like fighting in Iraq, I did not believe in why we where there. I went because I felt like I owed my friends that were killed over there. They had everything to live for; family, wife, kids. I had none of that, so why didn’t God take me?" – Arturo Franco

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"If armed dudes from a foreign country walked through the park blocks, we would be scared and offended, too. We know the realities of clearing house-to-house and taking people’s weapons away. We would never allow this in the US." – Shawn McKenzie. “I think [vets] need to tell what hell guys go through over there, I don't think they really understand how horrible it it is. You might just have to talk to somebody like Shawn and they might tell you what it's really like. It isn't published enough. It might scare us, but it might make people get mad and demand something be done.” – Shawn's grandmother Violet

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

Former United States Army Ranger, Michael Campbell, on his farm in Sturgis, Mississippi. Michael left the Army after his best friend was killed in Iraq after their vehicle ran over an IED. Michael says, “You have your good days and your bad days. The day I lost my good friend was a very bad day. I think Cesare Pavese, one of my favorite Italian poets, says it best, simply in two sentences, ‘We do not remember the days. But we remember the moments.’ . . . To me, we’re made of our memories.” I don’t know how you define a warrior or hero, ya know, I think there’s just that defining moment in an individual’s life when they don’t question whether they can do it or not . . . they are already doing it.

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"Growing up, my dream was to be in the Army. All I ever wanted to do was to be in the Army and lead men into combat. I got 30 seconds of my dream, I'd give my other leg to live it again." – Lucas Wilson

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"So, I just had a conversation with the bank about my college loan. I explained my situation and my hardship being a disabled combat veteran and finding a job and paying back my loan. I asked them if there were any options of getting a deferment or forbearance. They explained to me that, they do not offer such privileges to anyone. They told me I have 16 days to make a payment or my account will be handed over to a collection agency. Then I asked them what would be a way to make sure that my parents don't end up stuck with my debt, they did not have an answer, so, I asked them what would happen if I blew my brains out. Only then they said that my loan would be forgiven. So, Veterans, thank you for your sacrifice and thanks for the bailouts that the bank has been receiving from our tax money. And the only way we can help you, is only if you blow your brains out!!!!!” “And I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free, AND I WONT FORGET THE MEN WHO DIED WHO GAVE THEIR LIVES FOR ME AND I GLADLY STAND UP............" – Sergio Kochergin

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

Even though I’m homeless, I’m out here on the street, I’m cold, I’m hungry and I’m this, that and the other, I wouldn’t even give it a second thought. You know, if they needed me to go somewhere and defend the freedom, I wouldn’t think about it twice, man. Actually, the military prepares you for homelessness (laughs). You can survive. Yeah, it’s almost like basic training, and I laugh, because it’s kind of funny, but some of the things I learned in the service I actually use out here. You know, how to stay warm, how to make water drinkable, stuff like that. Defense techniques, shelter, ya know, I can make shelter out of almost anything. I’ve been homeless for about six years, about six years of actual homelessness. Homeless vet Clinton Carroll at Union Station in Washington D.C. Clinton asks travelers for change. Everything that he owns is in his bag.

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"As the deployment progressed we came to the realization that, if we are going to end this war, we have to have women to take over our mission. But Iraq has never had a female Iraqi security force. So I got the opportunity to do on-the-job training for the first female Iraqi security forces.” – Former Marine, Margo Ellis, in the Senate Rotunda in Washington D.C. Margo works for the Department of Veterans Affairs. She is a Congressional Liaison in the Office of Congressional and Legislative Affairs.

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"Is it really supporting and defending our constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic, to send military troops to over 100 countries across the globe, and to have military bases everywhere? Is that really what it's about? Are we just promoting our own economic interests so we can extract resources from the rest of the world? If people knew the reality of what our troops are doing, and if they had it happening to them, they would fucking flip out." - Ari LaVallee at Burning Man 2013

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"I sat quietly and watched because we always heard and talked about those who were dying around us. But it didn’t hit that close to home until I saw those around me who were affected by it, and I was like, “Wow.” What little problems I was having, it helped me to value life being over there." Former Marine Lamarris Williams in his apartment in Starkville, Mississippi. Lamarris says about his faith, “Reading the Bible has been a big thing in my life, even as a child. I think when I joined the military I kind of pushed it aside. I’ve basically reconnected with God. I feel like He blessed me, and I didn’t give Him the appreciation that He deserved.”

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"Being thanked for doing something for America feels very awkward. I never felt that I was doing anything for America. I was doing it for the people that I was there with. I will happily accept thanks for the job that I did for the soldiers. I want people to know most returning veterans don't always feel good about what they were involved in. Vets don't always feel good about what they've done. Not everyone wants to be regarded as a hero, or welcomed home as if there achieved something. Or that they should be thanked when they've experienced things that should not have happened. If we are going to commit ourselves to a conflict, we need to commit ourselves to the consequence. People need to share that burden, and listen to the vets." – Myla

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"I have five gold stars tattooed on my shoulder. That’s five fucking bothers of mine who were killed by these people. It’s been a pretty fucked up period in my life lately. My brigade is shipping out to Iraq again and it’s fucking tearing me up. It’s killing me, being stuck here and not going, knowing that my friends are going to face the hell of war and I won’t be there wit them. Sometimes being left behind is a fate worse than bearing the scars that war produces on the body and soul. I pray to God I don’t have to tattoo any more fucking stars." – Miah Washburn

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

Engraved: “Man of misery, whose land have I lit on now? What are they here—violent, savage, lawless? or friendly to strangers, god-fearing men? Where can I take this heap of treasure now and where in the world do I wander off myself?” Corey Moore at Benjamin L. Hooks Central Library in Memphis. Engraved on the column is an excerpt from Homer’s epic poem about war hero Odysseus’ ten-year long journey from the Battle of Troy to his homeland and wife Penelope, in Ithaca.

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"When a warrior becomes broken or disabled it’s a very serious thing. It’s antithetical to be a warrior and to be broken; to be a warrior is to be tough, to be strong, and when you’re broken, service members and veterans feel lost. Alienated and alone I began to wonder if I would ever recover. In May of 2008, through an email from a Veterans Service Organization, I learned of a new type of program to pair service dogs with veterans. This was new to me; I didn’t know what a service dog was. I immediately researched that and I thought, “This is for me.” In November of ‘08 I was selected as one of the first veterans in the country to be paired with a service dog. My dog’s name is Tuesday. Tuesday has mitigated most of the my symptoms of traumatic brain injury, PTSD, a spinal condition, and has enabled me to re-ignite, re-awaken, and re-realize some of my personal goals, dreams, and hopes. I now walk into the world each day with a gentle, well-trained golden retriever named Tuesday, who wears his bright red, clearly marked service cape as he accompanies me when I ride the subway, enter an elevator, or dine at restaurants. My relationship with Tuesday transcends our exterior, our skin and our fur. Tuesday is so many things. He’s a part of me. He helps me physically… and he helps me spiritually." – Luis Carlos Montalvan

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

Major Khieem Jackson with his dog, Sasha, on his day off. Major Jackson is currently the Deputy Director for the Marine Corps Office of Legislative Affairs to the U.S. House of Representatives. Jackson explains his job, “If had a bumper sticker, it would say our job is to educate and inform the U.S. Congress of the priorities and the mission of the United States Marine Corps as the nation’s premier force in readiness.” "I think that everything I’ve gone through helped me do my job, but I never had a kind of a moral conflict with helping the Iraqi people because my Christian sensibilities agreed with at least the surface rhetoric of our administration that we need to help the Iraqi people, and they’ve been oppressed, etc., etc. So I was onboard with that. What I wasn’t onboard with was the fact that I felt that we were duped. I don’t think that was really the mission. I think there were some economic issues at play. The same folks that engineered this war were the same folks that engineered the Gulf War: Bremer, Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, Bush Sr., etc. I’ve learned to keep Ky Jackson separate from Major Jackson. When I was in Iraq during ’08 I was a staff officer. We had lots of viewing screens where I worked. We were watching the concession speeches of Sarah Palin and John McCain and a lot of people were disappointed. However, when it came time to view the speech that Barack Obama was going to give for winning the presidency, they turned off the TVs. I kept my mouth shut. I did my job but I was very disappointed to see that they didn’t want to see their new commander in chief make his speech. So those types of incidents forced me to keep Major Jackson very separate from Ky Jackson. So anyway, I spent most of my time, emotional time, not focused on the enemy, or not perceiving the Iraqis as the enemy, but perceiving my own squadron as the enemy."

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

“My resistance was a conscious decision to cease participation in the continued maintenance and creation of empire through military intervention, and global abuses of economic tyranny.” – Benji Lewis

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"Stop telling your sons and daughters the best thing they can be when they grow up is a dead soldier. Until you can show me how killing children in foreign nations helps ensure our freedom, stop telling them that fighting for it is a good idea." Penny is an active supporter of the Doug Fir Veterans Farm project. Their mission is to facilitate a holistic transition for service members to post military life and to support active duty military, veterans, and their families regardless of politics. Doug Fir Veterans Farm project’s slogan is, “From the War on Terror to the War on Terra.”

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

“People look at the Nazi concentration camps and wonder, how can you do something like that? It’s really easy. It’s a simple thing. You make one wrong decision and you spend the rest of your life explaining that decision. I’ve barely made any choices in my life, and then I ended up working in a concentration camp. You wake up every day, put your boots on and go to work at the concentration camp.” – Christopher Arendt former Guantanamo guard

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"It seems to me that the most interested population in war tend to be middle aged people who have not served. Many liberals seem to yearn for us (veterans) to return scarred emotionally so they can say I told you so. Many conservatives are too eager for blood baths in the name of their savior, they hope we return to stick up for the second amendment. Those liberals forget that the military is comprised of all walks and same with the conservatives, they put us in a box that turns my stomach. War tourists who follow the movement to justify preconceptions of something that can’t be defined." – Garrett Anderson

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"I learned philosophy from the best minds of my parents’ generation. The people I studied under are not forming public policy; the makers of public policy went to a different set of schools. It is as if my country were dreaming in one room, and making decisions in another." – Lelyn Masters

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan

"As the months pass, and more active-duty troops die as a result of suicide than in combat, it is now time for the veterans of this country to take a stand. There is no longer any doubt that the war in Iraq was waged for corporate profits. We see that the government has no qualms about sending brave men and women in uniform from Main Street to their deaths for the interest of Wall Street. We see that the government has no qualms about terrorizing and killing innocent people around the world for the interests of the super-rich. And lastly, we see that this government has no qualms about what happens to those veterans who do return home and suffer the highest unemployment rates and the highest homelessness rates, and receive criminally inadequate treatment for PTSD. The most honorable and courageous act you can do is to lay down your arms and refuse to fight." – Ryan Endicott

To Purchase:

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan
Photographs and Interviews by Jim Lommasson, Introduction by Jonathan Shay, MD, PhD $34.99
Schiffer Books: http://www.schifferbooks.com/exit-wounds-soldiers-storiesa-life-after-iraq-and-afghanistan-5706.html

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What We Carried: Fragments from the Cradle of Civilization

“The camera has two capacities,” remarked John Berger, “to subjectivise reality and objectify it.” These two capacities are rarely as evident as in the collection of images by artist Jim Lommasson, titled, What We Carried: Fragments from the Cradle of Civilization. The result is an alternative photography, one that functions as a metaphor for our social landscape. At Lommasson’s request, Iraqi refugees share an item that accompanied them during their immigration to America. He then makes a print of the item against a clean white background. The effect is startling. Parallels abound. The blank slate entirely absorbs, or perhaps, assimilates whatever trace of the memories and dreams that make this item a subject of displacement. It is this status that the process of What We Carried acknowledges and in a small way disrupts.

Over four million Iraqis have been forced to flee their homes since the 2003 U.S. invasion. Iraqi refugees didn't leave their country to get a better job, or because of a natural disaster, or an act of God. They left because of an act of Man. They left because of a brutal dictator and industrial warfare that has virtually destroyed their country. The long journey from Iraq to the U.S. may take months, sometimes even years, and includes refugee camps, piles of documents and possibly a few bribes.

Lommasson then returns this austere print to the contributor, and invites them to contextualize, however they see fit. The participant’s marks render the sanitized glossy images powerful, vulnerable, and breathtakingly individual. A trace of the significance, of the memory, is cast across the signified–sometimes reading to the eye as an adornment, sometimes as a lost caption, or a last minute edit before going to print, while simultaneously representing conversations of our time around notions of surveillance and classification, of the defamation of art and the preservation of the human spirit.

As the National Museum of Antiquities in Baghdad was being looted of objects from the civilizations of ancient Mesopotamia-- including the tablets with Hammurabi’s Code, the world’s first system of law–Iraqis were fleeing their homeland with a few common personal mementoes to collect their past and reconstruct their future.

This action of one white American man humbly returning this print, and this fragment of history, is a gesture of acknowledgement and an urgently needed means to make amends.
What We Carried is an engrossing collection of photographs that speaks to displacement, resilience, liminality, xenophobia, rendition, human interdependence, freedom, memory, and to the purpose of photography itself.

Artist Jim Lommasson works to “incorporate photography into social and political memory (instead of using it as a substitute, which encourages an atrophy of any such memory.)”

– Millicent Zimdars

What We Carried: Diaspora – Dr. Baher Butti

Brother in law: Seattle Washington USA. Sister: Budapest Hungary. Brother: In Jordan....no maybe Dubai/UAE. Brother: Brighten England. G.B. (Me) Portland/OR/USA. Mother: Buried in Dubai or maybe Abu Dhabi....well, I have to admit I don't know where my mother was buried! I am waiting for my American passport because UAE will not let me visit my mother's grave with my Iraqi passport ... oh those politicians. – Dr. Baher Butti 6/28/2013

What We Carried: Ali Ali

"I want to ask my country "Iraq" when we will get some rest. Shall we spend tears on our current circumstance or should we cry for the past. We have been carrying our miseries for long time on our chests. Strangers from around the world occupied our land and they kill our people for a very cheap price. We are tired, we are tired and we want to get some rest." – Ali Ali

What We Carried: Zahra Alkabi

"When I left my country Iraq in 2000, I left everything behind, my photos, my personal stuff, my memories because I just wanted to forget everything about my life but the only thing that I couldn't leave behind was my faith. This is our Holy book "Qura'an." I wanted to have with me all the time so I can get protection and guidance to my family during this uncertain Journey." – Zahra Alkabi

What We Carried: Othman Al Ani

"I brought this domino set with me from Baghdad because it reminds me of the great times I spent with my friends. I chose this from all the other stuff because I know those old times may not come back again. When I went to see my friends for the last time before leaving my country, they gave this domino set to me to keep and to remind me of the great times we spent together." – Othman Al Ani

What We Carrie: Dr. Baher Butti

What We Carried: Susan Barwary

"My father bought this set of coffee cups when he was a young adult, before he was married… in 1945. He was insistent that it would be a big family. This was a set of 12 cups, but after this long time, only 5 cups are left… This set has also travelled multiple times, from Baghdad to Dohuk, to Syria, to Chicago… I have wrapped every piece of this set with fabric and with care as if it was a piece of gold… It is worth a lot to me… These coffee cups remind me of my precious father who taught me so much, and who I will always remember with love and gratitude… How many times have we happily drunk bitter coffee from these cups in our house… until the decorations disappeared from its surface… I couldn’t leave these cups in Baghdad despite having left so many valuable things… I left my friends and those that I have loved, and they were many…I left the job that I loved… I left my home and my memories… and my roots…" – Susan Barwary

What We Carried: Schmeiran

"The morning Dawns, the Sun is up. Children playing. Mothers cooking. My little notebook holds my memory of my friends remembering me when they start writing. Oh! this is my life that is no longer alive. One night just changed it all. That night was dark. Everyone was running. People were crying. That one bomb, it destroyed my land. A mother cries where is my son? He went with the sun, gone like yesterday. The sand was thirsty. It drank his blood. He went to asleep. He never woke up. We wanted to live. But were kicked out. Leaving with our memories that made my history. That one night that changed my life is forever alive inside my mind. Past and future will always collide. Everytime I raise my eyes and look up to the skies." – Schmeiran

What We Carried: Youlena Zaia

"Spring of 1976 with my college classmates during the college’s trip to the ancient city of Nimrud 20 miles south of the city of Mosul. These monuments go back to the civilization of the Assyrian empire between 1650 BC and 610 BC. The monuments of this historical city have been destroyed by ISIS, because in their perspective, this city does not have an Islamic nature". – Youlena Zaia

What We Carried: Haifa

What We Carried: Dr. Baher Butti

"In 2003 someone told me that Paul Bremer sent a message to George Bush saying"we are not in the Gulf... we are in Mesopotamia." Well, first it's unfortunate that Bremer relies on Hollywood to believe that Gulf is still using camels for transportation and expects to see flying carpets in Baghdad! Second, it's a pitty that I was not given the chance to show him before going to Baghdad this photo of teachers in school annual party in Baghdad... in the 60's...I could have told him that Iraqis are modern, and we are civilized enough to build our own Democracy.... Maybe, and just maybe, he could have limited his job to ousting Saddam and not oust the craddle of civilizations itself!! Thank you Jim Lommason.. late is better then never!" Dr. Baher Butti

What We Carried: Dhuwiya Al Obaidi

"When I set off from Iraq, I remember many dear things, but I could not leave my mother’s glasses. She passed away in 1986. So it would stay a dear memory in my heart." – Dhuwiya Al Obaidi

What We Carried: Ulla

"We all have had a childhood....But it differs for everyone..." – Ulla

Stories of Survival: Object. Image. Memory.

Object.
The objects in this exhibition reflect the lives of their one-time owners: childhood, home, culture, and religious practice; but also war, violence, displacement, and exile. They have survived the Holocaust and genocides or conflicts in Armenia, Bosnia, Cambodia, Darfur, Iraq, South Sudan, and Syria. A snap decision or a stroke of luck resulted in what remains from a lost world.

Documents, a Bible, a candleholder, a recipe book, or keys to your home--dislodged from their original surroundings, these seemingly ordinary objects are now storytellers. They represent futures that were forever altered.

Image.
The images in this exhibition were taken by photographer Jim Lommasson. Nearly a decade ago, Lommasson began working on a collaborative photographic and writing project with Iraqi and Syrian refugees to the US, based on the objects they brought with them to this country. In this exhibition, multiple victim and survivor groups, and their descendants, were asked to participate.

Lommasson photographed each object on a plain white background, creating a blank palette around each. Alone on a white ground, the objects become elevated from the everyday to the iconic. The participants were then asked to engage with the photographs and express themselves however they felt comfortable, directly on the print.

Memory.
Writings and creative expressions on the images attach memories to the objects. Autobiographical narratives become communal history. These stories of survival resulting from incomprehensible inhumanity represent shared experiences despite differences of time and place: experiences of resilience and courage, the fragility of life, family history, and hope for the future. In some ways, these are experiences shared by all of us.

What would you take with you? What would you keep?

"I was living in Germany in the thirties, and I knew that
Hitler had made it his mission to exterminate all Jews,
especially the children and the women who could bear
children in the future. I was unable to save my people,
only their memory."

– Roman Vishniac, Photographer

Pavlovsk, Russia 1897 - New York, 1990

Stories of Survival: Henry Stone – Poland

To me looking at this picture brings back memories. I feel like I am reliving a painful past so the world will never forget those that were left in the past.

Stories of Survival: Immaculee Mukantaganira - Rwanda

This dress belongs to Clarisse Uwonkunda, my daughter; she was five during the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. I found it in a grave in Rubavu, Western Province, Rwanda. Last January 2017, I went to Rwanda and wanted to find your bodies (skeleton) and restore your dignity. I found you on January 20th and took you to the memorial site of Nyanza, Kicukiro. I was exhausted after that; I expected to be relieved and feel grateful for that accomplishment but instead became so sick. My muscles were not working, I spent weeks in bed recalling every detail of before your trip to Ruhango and the day of our separation. Our wish was for you to survive even if we die. We could not imagine someone killing a 3 or 5 year old. Helas, no chance for me! God only know! Immaculee Mukantaganira Clarissa Uwonkunda’s Dress (was bought in Egypt when his father was traveling there). • Bodies deteriorate • Bones are found apart • Clothes/dresses are dirty, bloody but keep their forms.

Stories of Survival: Mikhail Mirkin – Soviet Union

(From left to right) My dad fasted on March 06 every year for as long as I can remember. This was the date in 1942, that his family, along with other Jewish people in his hometown of Chereya were killed by the Nazis. This is a picture of the letter he received from the head of the post office in his village (“Mestechko”), Chereya confirming his worst fear–his family death. My dad grew up in Chereya, and he was in university when the war started. His family (parents, 2 brothers, and a sister) remained in Chereya. He had sent them a letter to find out their fate, hoping they were still alive, and received a return notification of their death. My dad last saw his family in 1941. He joined the Soviet Army shortly after and served till the war ended in 1945. He married my mom, his wife, in 1948. They had two sons. In 1989, they left with my brother towards America. In 1991, my family joined them. In 2007 we (my dad, mom, brother, and I) took a trip to Chereya. It took 65 years for my dad to visit the place where this horrible even occurred. The place where his family was killed. My dad had always been a record keeper–he kept a diary throughout the war and continued to document events throughout the life after visiting Chereya in ’07. My dad wrote an autobiography using these diaries. He dedicated this book to his family, and to the future generations. He wasn’t one to share unless asked, but after visiting his childhood village so many years later, knew that these stories needed to be told. He knew they could not be forgotten. There are two lessons to be learned from his story. This first, as is often the case with stories from the Holocaust, is to never forget. It happened, it cannot be forgotten, and it cannot be repeated with anyone. The second is that anybody can rebuild their life, even when tragic things happen you can overcome the tragedy and create a good life.

Stories of Survival: Ursula Meyer – Bremen, Germany

With storm clouds gathering on the horizon, my aunt’s teddy bear was buried in a backyard for safekeeping. My aunt and grandfather weathered the torrent and returned to Germany after three years in Theresienstadt in Czechoslovakia. After learning of the damage caused by the deluge, my aunt and grandfather wrote to my mother in America informing her that Tante Regine, Onkel Siegfried, Georg, Tante Toni, Hugo and his two sisters and Onkel Moritz and his family had been engulfed by the surge. In the aftermath of the storm, my aunt was reunited with her childhood teddy bear.

Stories of Survival: Ben Goldwater – Brussels, Belgium

I was born in Belgium, a little country in Western Europe, some ten months before the beginning of World War II. Belgium’s neutrality was violated when the German army attacked the French and British forces through Belgium and Luxembourg on May 10, 1940. That event persuaded my parents to take my sister and I and flee to France. However, the French were unfriendly to refugees, particularly Jewish refugees, so my parents, my sister and I returned to Belgium. Upon our return to Belgium, my father joined the Belgian underground. Once Belgium capitulated and the German occupied all of Belgium, they instituted their restrictive racial laws and my father could no longer work. However, my father was a born salesman and in order to make a living, he acted as a broker for buyers and sellers of a variety of things. Also, the Germans confiscated all motor vehicles so my father had to travel from city to city by train. My earliest recollection about my father’s travels was that he carried a small suitcase, the one that you see pictured here. I do not know what it contained, but he always carried it with him. It may have contained things that he used to make a living, or it may have contained documents pertaining to his work with the underground. I do not know and my father never told me. Throughout the war, until our liberation in the fall of 1944, my father carried that little suitcase with him. In 1945, we befriended a United States G.I. from the Bronx, in New York. His name was Maurice Levy and he worked for the U.S. Postal Service. He had taught himself to speak, read and write in French and could also converse and read and write Jewish. He became a frequent guest at our home. He and his buddies spent many nights with my family. He would bring the raw materials and my mother would cook home-cooked meals for him and his fellow G.I.s. When he mustered out of the service in 1945, he searched for my mother’s family in Chicago, Illinois. After finding my mother’s aunt and uncle who had immigrated to the U.S. during the early part of the 20th century, they immediately undertook to start the sponsorship for our coming to America. Because of the quota system existing at the time, we did not obtain our visas to immigrate to the United States until December, 1949. When we left Belgium, the little suitcase came with us. My mother’s family arranged passage for us on the Queen Mary and the little suitcase bears the decal of the Cunard White Star Line used by the Queen Mary. The ship has been decommissioned and is now moored in Long Beach, California. The little suitcase may have been used by my father for important work for the allied cause during the War. It seems that it was significant enough for my parents to continue to use that little suitcase and bring it to America. It has a long history and it is my sister and my pleasure to have it displayed at the Illinois Holocaust Museum.

Stories of Survival: Martha Kahn – Manheim, Germany

I remember this purse on the shelf of a glass - covered china cabinet in my grandparents’ home. The cabinet had several shelves on top with pretty tea cups, porcelain figurines, some glass and silver items and this purse. My uncle, Robert Kahn, told me that my Oma (grandmother, Martha Kahn) would use this purse on special occasions. Children were not allowed to open the sliding glass door. For me the glass was a window on a life style that was gone. None of the items in the cabinet were ever used in America. I heard the story of how these beautiful objects were hidden as my grandparents fled from Mannheim to Luxembourg through France and Spain and finally to the USA. At that time, my mother, Irene Poll, was hidden in Lille, France by a priest. At times, I sensed my grandparents’ sadness for the life in Germany they had lost. They never spoke about it except for a rare “Bei uns” loosely translated as “the way it was there.” I always knew the life that had been taken from them had been very lovely. When my grandparents, mother and uncle looked at the items in the cabinet, the sad and happy memories would come back.

Stories of Survival: Beatrice Ring – Berlin, Germany

Sept. 4th, 2017 This typewriter that you see here was made and brought from Berlin, Germany to this United States in 1939. A really very special typewriter, as it was the actual instrument that saved our 3 lives (Mom, Dad and Me). This very instrument helped us to immigrate legally to the U.S.A in March of 1939. We lived in Berlin, Germany, Hitler had already been in power for 3 years (1936). My mother, Betty Frankel, of blessed memory Z’’L, used this typewriter to correspond with relatives in Chicago. She asked if they could sponsor us, so that we would be able to come to the U.S.A. After typing many letters with this typewriter to these relatives and assuring them that we would not be a burden to them but would do any type of work to be financially independent, they agreed to sponsor us. It finally happened! We were able to immigrate to America. This was truly a miracle. Especially after having witnessed KRISTALLNACHT in 1938! Around that time we went through a very traumatic experience with the S.S. (Secret Service). It is this very special typewriter we brought to America that saved 3 lives. With much gratitude I remain a proud American.

Stories of Survival: Olga Weiss, Brussels, Belgium

This domino set was given to me by “St. Nicholas” (the counterpart of Santa Claus), on December 6, 1943, when I was 7 years old. December 6 was the traditional date when St. Nicholas came down the chimney with gifts for Belgian children. At that time, I was hidden with my parents in a small town outside of Brussels. Because I was attending a Catholic school (under a false name), my parents wanted to be sure that I, like the other children, had received a gift from St. Nicholas, who by the way, wrote his name on the outside of the box, together with mine. Olga Weiss Olga and her family fled from Belgium to France in the early days of the war, only to return to Belgium believing that they would be safe. Olga was hidden under a false identity during the war. She and her parents immigrated to the US in 1950.

Stories of Survival: Harry Reuse – Sagan, Germany

(Clockwise from top left) Harry wrote this journal while POW at Stalug Luft III in Sagan, Germany (now Sagan, Poland). It was a POW camp for Air Force officers. In this journal, he describes in vivid detail both the compound and the living conditions. The journal contains not only illustrations such as those pictured, but also poems and thoughts of home. A natural artist, Harry drew detailed diagrams of the compound as well as the tunnels dug by prisoners.

Stories of Survival: Mirsad Causevic – Bosnia and Herzegovina

We would use whatever we could to create to create distractions from our current situation–an empty box of crackers became a chessboard or a deck of playing cards–anything to help to pass the time. Of course, all this had to be done secretly. Nevertheless, this has helped as to draw attention, at least in short moments, from our cruel reality. Mirsad Causevic Bosnia and Hercegovina

Stories of Survival: Siyin Doung – Cambodia

This Khmer copper urn is a gift from my greatgrandparents who had kept it for generations. It is the souvenir I love most because my greatgrandparents gave it to me before they passed away.

Stories of Survival: Ida Sefer Roche – Bosnia and Herzegovina

I was seven.

To Purchase:

What We Carried: Fragments from the Cradle of Civilization
Blue Sky Books $26.00
MagCloud: http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/1031494

Books

Shadow Boxers: Sweat, Sacrifice & the Will to Survive in American Boxing Gyms
Signed Hardcover: $15.00 including shipping.
Contact: jim@lommassonpictures.com

Exit Wounds: Soldiers' Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan
Photographs and Interviews by Jim Lommasson, Introduction by Jonathan Shay, MD, PhD $34.99
Schiffer Books: http://www.schifferbooks.com/exit-wounds-soldiers-storiesa-life-after-iraq-and-afghanistan-5706.html

What We Carried: Fragments from the Cradle of Civilization
Blue Sky Books $26.00
MagCloud: http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/1031494

Oaks Park Pentimento: Portland’s Lost and Found Carousel Art
Introduction by Inara Verzemnieks. Afterword by Prudence Roberts.
Oregon State University Press. Hardcover, $25.00.
http://osupress.oregonstate.edu/book/oaks-park-pentimento

Lommasson Pictures Web Site:

http://www.lommassonpictures.com

About Me

Jim Lommasson: Jim Lommasson is a freelance photographer living in Portland, OR. Lommasson received the Dorothea Lange–Paul Taylor Prize from The Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University for his first book, "Shadow Boxers: Sweat, Sacrifice and The Will To Survive In American Boxing Gyms." Lommasson's book "Exit Wounds: Soldiers’ Stories – Life After Iraq and Afghanistan" and exhibition about U.S. Veterans from the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars was published in 2015. He is an Oregon Humanities Conversation Project Grant recipient for his public discussion "Life after War." Lommasson was awarded a Regional Arts and Culture Council Grant for "What We Carried: Fragments and Memories from the Cradle of Civilization." What We Carried is a collaborative storytelling project with displaced Iraqi and Syrian refugees. What We Carried was exhibited at The Ellis Island National Museum of Immigration in 2019. "Stories of Survival: Object. Image. Memory." about Holocaust and genocide survivors created with the Illinois Holocaust Museums is traveling to museums in the U.S. "Stories of Survival: Genocide Remembrance and Prevention" was exhibited at The United Nation Headquarters Gallery in NYC Spring 2023.

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