Zsófia Sivák: A Good Picture Holds Power
February 5th, 2023
By Borbala Komjathy @borikomjathy
Zsófia Sivák depicts intimate portraits of those living on the fringes of society. Her works explore what it is to exist on the periphery, communities and traditions that are slowly disappearing. Taking a slow, immersive approach to her projects, she integrates herself into the lives of her subjects; Roma families living below the poverty line or villages with under 3000 inhabitants which will eventually depopulate within the next 50 - 100 years. With the country's growing internal migration to cities and the lack of rehabilitation programs aimed at these communities and locations, some traditional ways of living are disappearing without leaving traces.
Sivak’s works shine a light on urgent and current socio-economic questions, while simultaneously allowing an intimate glimpse into moments of vulnerability, strength, happiness and grief. It is against this socio-political backdrop that writer and curator Borbala Komjathy spoke with Zsófia - talking about everything from interest and inspiration to the process of capturing documentary photography.
From At Jozsef’s
Borbala Komjathy: Hi Zsofi, nice to meet you. Could you please tell us a bit about your background and your work?
Zsófia Sivák: I grew up in Kerecsend, a small village in Eastern Hungary, then moved to Budapest to study at the Moholy-Nagy University of Art and Design [MOME] where I completed both my MA and BA in Photography. I’m now back at MOME, working towards my second MA in Design and Visual Art Teaching, while also working as a freelance photographer and visiting lecturer.
In my remaining free time, I work on my own independent projects. Social documentary photography has always been the closest to me, with my focus being Hungary’s rural communities. I’m mainly interested in topics and themes I feel personally connected to or are inspired by my own childhood experiences.
From Family
From Family
BK: In your first study Family, which never developed into a full series, you turned your attention to your family and the home you grew up in. You worked on these images while already living in Budapest and studying at MOME. What did the shift from Kerecsend to Budapest feel like? What did you want to convey about your family and the surroundings you grew up in?
ZS: The move from one of the poorest villages in the East of the country to the capital was definitely a big jump – bigger than I had expected. Living in Budapest, studying at MOME and moving within the creative circles puts you in a specific privileged position which has opened my eyes to the huge social gap between the city and the countryside. The presence of deep poverty in these areas, including my own neighbourhood, had suddenly dawned on me. Living at home, these things did not occur to me because it was natural, and only when I had moved had I come to see things in a different light. I don’t specifically remember why I started documenting my family, but looking back, I think it helped me to process this duality.
From At Jozsef’s
BK: Your first series, At Jozsef’s, documents the daily life of a Roma family local to Kerecsend. Can you please explain why you decided to follow the life of Jozsef and his family, and the process behind getting to capture such intimate moments? How do you integrate yourself into your subjects' lives?
ZS: In Kerecsend, and in general in Hungary, there’s a wide gap between the Hungarian and Roma populations. Despite Roma residents making up more than 40% of the village I didn’t have a single Roma friend or acquaintance. The local Romas live separately from the rest of the community, in their own ‘row’ or ‘settlement’, which I grew increasingly curious to explore. I quickly learnt that to be able to work with them, I’ll have to take a different approach; one cannot simply just walk in with a camera in hand. Initially, I experienced a strong pushback, got shouted at, and even got stones thrown at me.
“I felt a certain magic that forced me to go back again and again… Despite the visible, extreme poverty, there is a sense of freedom surrounding everything.”
And yet, I felt a certain magic that forced me to go back again and again. To try to paint a picture for you: music is played loudly in every garden and home; there are no fences; doors and windows are always open. Life is lived on the streets where the community gathers to cook, dance and discourse together. Despite the visible, extreme poverty, there is a sense of freedom surrounding everything. My conviction to understand the community grew ever stronger, and while the series follows the life of one family, Jozsef’s, I had to integrate into the whole community.
I started building up trust by taking portraits, mainly staged pictures of children and families, which I then printed and gifted out. There are no printers or computers, so physically printed pictures are highly valued. Slowly, they let me into their homes, we had coffee, we talked, and we started getting to know each other. By a year had passed I felt they had fully accepted me and personal bonds were formed, we counted on each other. At first, the hostile environment became familiar and welcoming – I felt safe and I felt at home.
From At Jozsef’s
BK: One of your returning themes is documenting Roma communities. Romas make up the largest ethnic minority of Hungary, and as you explained in a previous interview, their portrayal is usually linked to negative notions such as poverty and destitution. How do you try to break away from this established narrative?
ZS: The Roma community is extraordinarily diverse, and yet, we think of them in stereotypes. After At Jozsef’s, I tried to distance myself from the canonical narratives to study different aspects of the community. I sought out Roma events to offer my services as a photographer, but it wasn’t easy. I never knew what I was signing up for. I’ve ended up attending Roma village festivals, birthdays, traditional weddings and búcsús [búcsú – a Hungarian tradition, originally connected to the Catholic ‘Day of Pardon’, celebrated by festivities, and often accompanied by the visit of travelling fun fairs].
These happenings are characterised by kinship, the importance of family, abundance, and fun – painting an opposite picture to their stereotypical hardships.
Roma Celebration
Roma Celebration
BK: What did you learn from following the Roma families and communities you work with? What motifs, belief systems and traditions came to light that are usually not considered when visually, or otherwise, this community is being depicted, while simultaneously addressing existing issues such as poverty and discrimination?
ZS: The most important thing I've learned, is that the Roma community and identity escapes generalisation. There are many subgroups. For example, Olah Romas are more likely to maintain traditions, while Rumongo Romas don’t usually keep them and consider themselves to be fully culturally assimilated.
Most social documentary photography that focuses on Romas is not actually about depicting identity or the community, but about the subject of poverty. I am not fond of this documentary approach often applied in photography, because boundaries become blurred and the topic ends up being essentially associated with the represented subjects, further enhancing stereotypes.
“The most important thing I've learned, is that the Roma community and identity escapes generalisation.”
In reality, social issues such as scarcity affect other groups besides Romas and it's harmful to depict hardships in relation to only a certain group. If I were to turn to photograph Roma communities again, I’d focus on the strengths of family bonds and the power these communities hold.
From Our Prices are in Forints
BK: Your series Our Prices are in Forints won last year’s Press Photo Award in the category ‘Social Documentary Photography’. In the series, you explore a culture in decline - rural drinking establishments. Why did you choose to document these establishments rather than other prominent places in country life, such as cultural houses or churches? What meaning do pubs hold in these communities?
ZS: This topic was also inspired by my personal experiences. When I was growing up, Kerecsend had seven pubs to a mere population of 2500. At this time, there was no internet or cell phones, so the pub acted as a forum for gathering and information exchange. I used to frequent these places with my step-father, waiting for him to finish discussing the happenings of the world. This memory inspired me to go back and create a series of these establishments.
However, when I returned, I was surprised to see that nearly nothing has remained of the old community life; rural pubs are in the process of completely disappearing, and only a very few visit them. I started traveling around Heves county’s villages (where the population was under 3000 people) to document the local pubs, and, just like that, the series took a different turn.
I see these pubs as a synonym and symbol for the declining state of the Hungarian countryside. This is not a current development, since Communism, Hungary has suffered from anti-rural politics, urbanisation, and forced agricultural collectivization. Things got worse after the political system changed in 1989 when nearly two-thirds of workspaces had to close down, forcing a big part of the countryside into unemployment.
“Since they don’t see me as a threat, they are also more likely to agree to be my subjects.”
BK: Rural pubs are traditionally male-dominated environments, where men gather after work to have a drink and gamble. What was your experience entering and immersing yourself in these spaces as a young woman?
ZS: The countryside is still traditionally very patriarchal, so most often they simply don’t understand what I’m doing there. I often feel slightly looked down on or ridiculed, which actually works as an advantage; since they don’t see me as a threat, they are also more likely to agree to be my subjects.
From Our Prices are in Forints
From Our Prices are in Forints
BK: How long do you spend with the communities you work with when researching and doing fieldwork? Have you ever come across any obstacles in gaining their trust?
ZS: It depends. While working on At Jozsef’s, I often stayed there, and spent New Year’s Eve and other celebrations with them - sometimes easily spending more time with them than with my own family. There are places where I spend only a day and others where I spend five minutes. Now, I have less and less time to visit the people and places I want to work with. Ideally, I’d have to move back to the countryside, but my job doesn’t allow it. So, for now, weekend visits remain and each time I have to quickly adjust myself and my mindset from the city rush, but it’s getting increasingly difficult.
“Sometimes I feel like people are just happy to be able to talk to someone.”
BK: Do you consult your subjects when working together? How much agency do you provide your subjects with?
ZS: During my work with the settlement, this was one of the points I considered very carefully. Any money I’d receive, for example through winning competitions, I’d split with Jozsef and his family and help them in any way I could. I still felt anxious and guilty, feeling like I was exploiting them for my own success without them understanding it.
I haven’t built such strong connections with my other subjects; I usually just give them the heads-up on what the pictures are intended for. It would be wonderful to be able to show the end products to everyone involved, but, since I work in different locations, it’d be impossible. Although sometimes I feel like people are just happy to be able to talk to someone.
From Our Prices are in Forints
BK: Do you conceptually set up and prepare your images, or do you capture moments that are presenting themselves to you organically?
ZS: Both. When I first get stuck in a project I let it develop by itself, making sure I photograph everything I encounter. Once the overarching, more thematic compositions emerge from these bodies of images I start thinking about what else is missing from the work, either content-wise or visually. I don’t tend to set up my pictures, I only occasionally direct my subjects by asking them to change seats or take things off the walls if they visually don’t contribute to the image.
BK: How many pictures do you take while visiting your subjects and places?
ZS: The biggest part of the process is researching and finding the right locations and subjects. It's a rare occasion when I visit a place for the picture to present itself immediately. It happens that I often visit a place and don’t find anything interesting to document. By the time I’ve familiarised myself with my location and subject, I have a clear so I don’t tend to take so many pictures. However, it also happens that doesn’t matter how many shots I take, the final product simply doesn’t reflect my vision. I’ve learnt not to force the picture in these situations, the results will be mediocre at best.
From Our Prices are in Forints
From Our Prices are in Forints
BK: Do you always carry your camera with you?
ZS: I only have my camera on me when I deliberately work on a project. I’m a bit angry with myself for this because I encounter so many things that would be worthy of photographing, but my phone is always on me to help out in these cases. To be honest, I am a bit lazy.
BK: How much do you edit your images, and if you do, what are things you emphasize through the edits?
ZS: I carry out the basic corrections and aim to cut as little as possible, but nothing else really. The vibrant colours are thanks to the flash, they are not edited.
From At Jozsef’s
BK: While still recording those living on the periphery, your images are intimate, allowing the audience to assume a different, closer viewpoint than that of traditional social documentary photography. What’s your stance on the ethics of Social Documentary photography?
ZS: This’ll forever be a predicament for me. I have a lot of unpublished pictures that I will never publicise because I feel they cross a line. If the image is visually good but it doesn’t present my subjects in a good light, I won’t use it. On the other hand, I do think that working in documentary photography requires a certain kind of boldness and urges to push and question the boundaries.
“If the image is visually good but it doesn’t present my subjects in a good light, I won’t use it.”
Maybe there’s no good answer to where the line between ethical and moral social-documentary photography lies, it depends on the photographer. I respect, and like the work of those – for example, Boris Mikhailov, Richard Billingham or Martin Parr - who remain committed to the picture, showing raw and undiluted subject matters, although softer and more metaphorical interpretations can be exciting too. I believe myself to stand somewhat in between the two, constantly exploring and testing my own limits.
BK: Through portraits, interiors and landscapes, your works are narrative on their own, they don’t necessarily require added explanations. What constitutes a good picture, in your opinion?
ZS: A good picture holds power.
About Zsófia Sivák
Zsófia Sivák was born in Eger, Hungary in 1993. She completed her photography studies at theMoholy-Nagy University of Art and Design in 2019.
She is primarily involved in documentary photography and projects which allow her to have long-term cooperation within a given community and document their daily lives objectively and without losing the possibility of subjective associations.