Scout: 2015 October

Page 20

You’ve also done excellent work in Mongolia. What was that like? Mongolia was awesome. It’s one of my favorite places that I’ve ever traveled to; I spent a week just going around. Their culture is very different from ours. To them, they just let you be. One of the dads of a family I had stayed with made me herd his cows while I was riding a camel, and he yelled at me because I didn’t know how to! They’re very straightforward, but at the same time welcoming. You can knock on their doors and enter; it’s part of their culture to allow you in. I remember a time when it was raining and we couldn’t eat out to have a picnic, so we just knocked on some door and a man let us in. I

As Filipino kids, growing up, our education was all about being trained to get a job, not exactly to go out into the world. Transitioning into doing photography full time was a really long journey. I think I was lucky because I started earning in college, so I didn’t have this fear of my allowance getting cut after graduation. I’ve had photography gigs since college. I was shooting at my cousin’s restaurant, I’d take photos of people and upload them on Facebook as simple promotion. Eventually, jobs started to come in. In my mid20s, I started to say no to some, whereas before, I had to say yes to everything just to make rent. But I really, really knew early on that I didn’t want to work a desk job.

THE LAST TIME we spoke to Hannah Reyes, she had just ended her National Geographic grant, which took her to North Luzon to photograph indigenous tribes. Last month, she went on a six-country street photography tour, sponsored by Lenovo and the National Geographic Channel. During the Philippine leg, we were able to catch up with her again, and she told us about her adventures while living with Mongolian tribes and her decision to settle down—for the time being—in the colorful city of Siem Reap in Cambodia.

Children in Carbon Market, Cebu

Since you’ve moved to Cambodia, do you ever feel that you’ve taken enough photos? There’s really no quota, as there are always new stories. The other day, I was on set of a Cambodian show that educates the youth about sexual health. That’s so new to them because they’ve had a long history of war, and they’re just rebuilding their pop culture, their music, everything. This is the first generation of Cambodians

Have you ever gone to a place to photograph it, and went back after a certain period? Perhaps to see what has changed or to see the people again? Yeah, and it kind of made me sad. I did it in Kalinga. The first time I went, it was as a tourist. The second time, I went for the NatGeo grant. It was the Buscalan, where they do the tattoos. So much had changed: they were asking for money every time I took a photo of them. The rise of tourism definitely affected the community.

Is there anywhere else you’d like to go to right now? I want to go back to Mongolia and spend a longer time there. I was there for nine days and that wasn’t enough for me. I want to see what it’s like in winter. I realized that moving to a place is so different from just traveling there; you understand the place so differently.

I remember seeing a photo of yours from Mongolia, of this man reclining on a day bed. That’s him! He was cool. I think if it weren’t for photography, I wouldn’t have been able to meet him.

offered him salad, and he yelled at me, “I am not a goat!” They don’t baby tourists; it’s not a touristy culture. They just go on with their lives and they don’t try to make things pretty for you.

A man and child at Carbon Market, Cebu

Can you think of one photo that was particularly difficult to take? Or an experience that was very difficult for you as a photographer? The shanty demolitions were the hardest. I’ve gone into situations where someone would tell me he’d rape me. That’s hard to shake off, and I didn’t want to go out anymore after that, but it’s just my calling trying to take care of me. I was working with the European Press Photo Agency at the time, and my boss made sure that I had a proper bulletproof vest and a Kevlar helmet. It’s really interesting because it was my first time shooting a situation like that. There were a lot of emotions; I was crying while shooting. I think it’s very vain when documentary photographers say that photos can change the world. I don’t know if that’s true, but I know it can make other people see what life is like in other places. It can make people be more empathic to others. n

Speaking of grants, have you ever wished there were more money to spend? Or does having a limited budget have its perks? The good thing about not having a lot of funding is seeing that only the really, really good projects get funded. Part of my job is getting rejected from a lot of grants and seeing who got in and thinking, “That’s a really good project! That deserved to win.” It pushes me more. I get a lot of questions about how I got into National Graphic, and I think you shouldn’t just do this to get into National Geographic. Find a story, find something you actually want to do, and not whether someone’s going to fund it.

that don’t have any real memories of the Khmer Rouge. John Vink, a Magnum photographer who is my neighbor, has been living there for more than a decade and he’s still doing long-term work that has to do with every single protest in Cambodia, just a documentation of each one. He’s there every day, he works every day.

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