Leandro Gladstone’s Consideration of Street Life in Two Cities

But that’s only to the extent that he really understands the language, and your reporter’s knowledge of Portuguese is limited to the single word “obrigado”. Thank you. As a result, Irish journalists and Brazilian photographers / musicians relied on Glauce for translation and received rapid enthusiasm from the hostess.

The visitor was in this country at the invitation of Glauce to take pictures, play his songs and promote the books she published for him. During his stay, he had an exhibition of his work presented in Bray, and he roamed the city of Dublin with his credible Canon camera in search of fresh inspiration.

He confessed that it was surprising that what was called “summer” could be very cold, but he certainly did not allow this to depress him.His hometown is a town most people in Ireland have never heard of, and the climate there is quite warm.

Although inferior to São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, the population of Belo Horizontal is at least 3 million. Located in the hills famous for gold and gem mining, Leandro was born about 40 years ago. His mother is an Italian blonde woman, and his father (who left his family shortly after his birth) has dark skin with genetic make-up that speaks of Africa.

“Brazil’s racism is huge,” observes Glauce, who works in the marketing department of the American country. Leandro confirms this is the case and tells him that his wavy hair and dark flesh tones consider him a “black” at his home. The contrast with his fair mother is that when he was a baby, her stranger approached her to ask if he was adopted by her.

He was accustomed to fearing police harassment, but store guards cast a shadow over him and generally looked at him with suspicion – the standard treatment of blacks in Belo Horizontal. Aside from racism, poverty is also huge in Brazil, which is famous for the wide gap between the rich and the poor.

People who live on the poor edge of the scale endure deprivation of depth that Irish people can only imagine. Social welfare support is mottled, leaving people with nothing to protect themselves where it exists. Little Leandro was not only black but also poor and grew up in one of South America’s notorious slums, the Poor Street.

Such areas are famous for crime, drug taking, and hunger, but at least he was thrown a lifeline – Education: “I went to a boarding school because I didn’t have food at home.” He 10 As a teenager, he began working on building a site to make up for his lack of a father to make money in his household, but he endured lessons up to the age of 18.

The class included instruction on how to use a computer, which helped me get a job at a bus company. In a dramatic career shift, when he was under 20, he switched from carrying bricks to coordinating a team of bus inspectors.

And it was around this time that he first met his Belo Horizontal compatriot, Grouse Lucas. His upbringing was in contrast to himself by a wealthy white family. They were rallyed in the 90’s by an informal youth movement that brought together independent youth.

People who followed “Straight Edge” (named after an American indie band) promised to avoid alcohol and other drugs. They were keen to play music, read Chomsky and George Orwell’s literature, and be upset in search of greater social justice.

Leandro and Glauce believe they must have met first in an outdoor reading of Orwell’s “Animal Farm” on the lawn of a public square. Following the reading, discussions took place and the decision was made to form a punk band. The company had the advantage that a black Fabella man became the leader. He was already an experienced guitarist.

His idol was Jimi Hendrix, who struggled to save money at the age of 16 and urged him to buy his first electric guitar. Within three years, he got his own outfit called “Two Minutes of Hate,” an excerpt from Orwell’s “1984.”

“We are full of anger and will change the world and put an end to racism and sexism,” he says through a friend’s translation. Grouse was the only girl in the new band who was delighted with the name Overstate. Leandro collaborated with Glauce’s husband Matteo Ferrari to write a song recorded for the 2004 EP.

Over State had some success, touring far away from his home to Colombia, but broke up four years later. The reason is that the couple headed to Ireland and left their music mentor at home with a renewed interest in guitar and photography. And, maybe the story is over, but because of Leandro’s talent and Glace’s determination, friendship should mean more than exchanging email from time to time.

In Ireland she had a son. She recently went to elementary school, started her marriage, and now she lives away from Matteo. Meanwhile, her ex-music coach found that taking a picture of her was far more rewarding than directing a bus timetable.

With stable money coming in, he was able to add floors to Fabella’s mother’s house, but it was time to change jobs. He started working on fashion photography and was always pursuing a personal project using an old Canon held in a dress with masking tape. The pictures he took with this were from homeless people living in the city of Bello Horizontal.

Most of these people are rural people who arrive in the city with high hope and zero finances. As their work and money dreams fade and there is no roof overhead, they find their most private and intimate moments alive in public. For over a decade, Leandro not only pointed his lenses at them over time, but also talked to them.

“It’s hard to explain Brazil’s poverty to the Irish people,” he thinks. “It’s a country where the price of a pair of shoes is equivalent to working for a month at the minimum wage.” He dreamed that his personal project could lead to an exhibition, perhaps a book, but last year. When I talked to Grouse on the phone, such a dream was far from reality.

Feeling he was really in the garbage dump, she decided to help – and she did so in the most spectacular way. Crowdfunding gathered over the internet allowed her to realize at least one of Leandro’s dreams.

She has collected and published “A Lookat the Streets,” a perfectly presented book that includes a selection of images of her friends. And she didn’t stop there. A photographer who turned into a punk guitarist was sent an invitation with a plane ticket to come to Ireland for a month.

She greeted him with a copy of the book, revealing that an exhibition of 20 prints had been arranged for Finby on the coast of Bray. Café customers came in contact with Gladstone’s view of life in his hometown.

Your reporter finds one of the photos to be particularly impressive. It is a black-and-white photograph of a young man who drew a silhouette against the background of a fountain. The man in the photo washes himself in this very public place and maintains his self-esteem and personal hygiene in sad situations. Music has changed since Over State roared to the audience and Leandro favored a more melodic style.

“When I get home, I’ll write a song that reflects my time in Ireland,” he promises. He also has a photo reminiscent of his moon here. Many of them are homeless people sitting on Dublin pavement with sleeping bags and tents along the canal. We may be First World people, but we haven’t wiped out the dirt of poverty.

Grouse believes that his efforts can show the Irish people themselves through a fresh eye.Is there another book in
make? The Irish version of “Look at the Street”?