We first ate at al-Andalus in 2013, on our first visit to Mexico City. A Mexican friend who had moved to Montreal told us it was her favorite restaurant in the city. We took that as a high recommendation and went. We have gone back almost every time since. But with the pandemic there was a big gap,
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When I was in my twenties I used to ride the metro there with a good friend who was French, and she always was annoyed (“Why do you care?”) with my habit of choosing which car of the train to board so I’d be lined up with where I was going.
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I feel it’s my compassionate duty to beam back warmth and color to my northern friends enduring the gnarly part of winter. As we took off from the Montreal airport the landscape was a frozen monochrome white. Beautiful, in a graphic way, once you got off the ground but still hard ice.
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The only surviving photograph of my grandfather, with my grandmother and mother as an infant (about 1917).
My mother experienced the Armenian genocide as a young child. It never really left her. She was born in 1915, the oldest of three children. To us, her children, she was not open about her early life as an Armenian growing up in the Anatolian highlands.
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A Neopolitan pizza, just out of the oven, and ready to serve. What could be better? Normally it’s brought to the table unsliced, still inflated and soft from the intense heat.
One of the reasons, maybe even the main reason – I wanted to go to Naples, was to eat Neopolitan pizza on its home turf.
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Return to Damascus is my new book of photographs, available for order, that preserves fleeting impressions and the spirit of a place through the lens. Accompanied by brief reflections and memories, the photographs offer a tribute to the place and its people, focusing on enduring character and the subtle interplay of light, architecture, and tradition. Return to Damascus is a quiet celebration of observation and memory, inviting viewers to participate.
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| How Many Roads? is a book of photographs by Jonathan Sa'adah, available for order, offering an unglossy but deeply human view of the period from 1968 to 1975 in richly detailed, observant images that have poignant resonance with the present. Ninety-one sepia photographs reproduced with an introduction by Teju Cole, essays by Beth Adams, Hoyt Alverson, and Steven Tozer, and a preface by the photographer. | |
| If you'd like more information, please have a look at this page. | |
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| To see more work To visit my blog Contact information All material © Jonathan Sa'adah no use without written permission | |
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