The Fight (2011-2012)

From January 2011 until the summer of 2012, we watched, helplessly, an illness’ progress, the damages that does to a body, and its degradation… the inoperable pharyngeal neoplasm diagnosis given to my father in law, here, in Bucharest. We started the search for doctors, methods, consultations and medicines. The treatments included radiotherapy and chemotherapy. With a little bit of luck, these treatments took place at Coltea Hospital, in a completely renovated wing. 14 days in a row, receiving one radiotherapy session a day, was the best case scenario – the worst case scenario was when the chemotherapy sessions were scheduled… 17 months. I was deeply moved by the way in which my father in law fought his illness! A Romanian literature teacher from the countryside, a region called Oltenia, recently retired, setting high hopes for future travels, as to visit foreign countries, places he has never been before. A peasant, who studied at the University in Cluj, someone who loved his country, and children, someone who believed in God, but not in priests… always wishing for the best, and whose family was, consistently, placed first. I have never heard him complain – of fate, of illness, of others. He was serene until the very end. His dignity surprised me and I have, humbly, tried to honour it, in his memory, through photography.

may, 2013


In Dan Moruzan’s documentary, the essential things happen quietly: fight, destiny, dignity, broken dreams. There is no voice. Like a mystery in the making; you feel tippy toeing, opening your eyes wide, and listening…
From time to time you are thrown back to reality: medical reports, x-rays, syringes, IVs. A grimace. This is not how the list of tranquility should look like – it is rather the horrid inventory of a final walk, wandering around the world.
There is dignity in pain – not only attributed to the subject, but also to the photographer: neither one wears a mask. While the first carries majestically his cross, the second makes a clean step behind. The latter, he does not invade any territory; neither he makes any noise, nor he brings any useless tensions into the scene. Silently, he triggers, with crouched fingers on the snap shot button; he observes… like in an unexpected epiphany, the sublimation of a man’s life.

Florin Șipoș