Portland State Magazine Winter 2019

27 religious practice; but also war, violence, dis- placement and exile," he explains. Paired with each photo is the handwritten account by each survivor translated into English. The objects are as everyday as a teddy bear, a candleholder and a black suitcase, and as symbolic as a young moth- er’s cookbook and a wedding announcement. "I believe in the power of images," says Lommasson. "One of the main purposes of the project is to put ourselves in the shoes of refu- gees." When the viewer sees pictures of familiar things people take with them, it leads them to think we are all more alike than different. He wants to coax viewers to contemplate, "What would you take with you if you had to flee your home suddenly?" But he also wants them to go further: "I'm hoping people will ask, 'What am I leaving behind? Everything—friends, home, school, job, culture and history.' That's what the main takeaway is: to bond, have empathy and com- passion, to feel in a visceral way leaving every- thing behind you and going to a place where you're not necessarily welcome and people don't speak the same language." A PORTLAND native, Lommasson landed his first commercial shoot while in college, which led to "a good, long career as an advertising and commercial photographer." However, he viewed the work as a way to "pay the bills," he says. His long-range goal was to do "meaningful" projects that shed light on human rights and social justice. For the past 15 years or so, most of his time and energy have gone into those ventures, which include multiple photo exhibitions and several books. — written by Cliff Collins, a Portland freelance writer. 