Amanda Magnani

Residents of 177 Clonliffe Road enjoy a sunny day across the street from the house. During the first lock down in Dublin, travels were only allowed within a 2km radius from one’s residence. From left to right: Bárbara, who moved right after quarantine began, Jonathan, Diane, Carla, Pedro, Jéssica and Beatriz. ©Amanda Magnani

June’s featured photographer is Amanda Magnani

Amanda Magnani is a Brazilian multimedia journalist, photographer and filmmaker, who has lived in six different countries and speaks six languages. Specialist in public policies and gender justice, she currently attends a master degree program in journalism, media and globalization in Aarhus, Denmark, with an Erasmus Mundus scholarship. Her photographs were exhibited in Festival de Fotografia de Tiradentes in 2017 and 2020, and in Elas Festival in 2019. In 2020, she was part of the organisation team of Fotografias por Minas, a campaign that united hundreds of photographers to raise funds for Covid-19 relief in Minas Gerais, Brazil.

Confined Away

My life under lockdown as a newly arrived immigrant.

Quarantine caught me in a weird place. On March 27th 2020, less than two months after I migrated to Ireland, the whole country was placed under full lockdown. For weeks, two kilometres was the maximum radius within which I was allowed to travel – an infinitesimal fraction of the more than 8.000 km separating Dublin from Belo Horizonte, my home town in Brazil. If you’re a human being on Earth in 2021, you’ve probably experienced some kind of confinement or restriction of movement due to Covid-19 over the past year. And if you’re not incarcerated or a refugee, I’m guessing your experience probably didn’t involve being in an unfamiliar place, lockeddown with people you didn’t know beforehand. I’m guessing you were, at least to some extent, home. I wasn’t. Nor were Beatriz, Alan, Eduardo, Everton, Jonathan, Diane, Pedro, Carla, Felipe and Jéssica – my housemates at 177, Clonliffe Road, Dublin 03. 

Eleven strangers spread across five bedrooms. Ten Brazilians and one Guatemalan, all but one newly arrived immigrants, who had had no previous contact with one another before setting foot on that house – and before being confined together. It felt like we were the subjects of a social experiment – except there was no one conducting it. Once Covid-19 came upon us, we were no longer allowed to leave for anything other than going to the supermarket. Suddenly, the place I only expected to go back to for eating, showering and sleeping, became my cloister. The sole table in the house, used for eating, studying and working, was never empty – and never silent. Except for a few lucky days, we had to wait in line for cooking and taking a shower; and, in some very unlucky ones, we might even have to wait in line for using the toilet. It was a hard couple of months. During this time, I started photographing everyday life at 177 Clonliffe Road, to try and make sense of my experience. But as the weeks of confinement went by, we went from sharing a house to living together. On Easter morning, Eduardo and Everton got chocolates for everyone in the house. For birthdays, we would get a cake and a card, signed by “your Irish-Brazilian family”. When June finally came, we didn’t skip the traditional Festa Junina: we improvised on costumes and decoration, but the typical food was there. And on almost every Sunday we would have lunch together, like any other ordinary Brazilian family. Although most of us have left 177, Clonliffe Road, we do our best to stay in touch. And as we recollect our time together, the shared memories, the ones we kept, are those of mutual respect and support.

Daiane and Jonathan lived together in bedroom 2. They didn’t know each other before moving to Dublin. ©Amanda Magnani
From left to right: Jonathan going downstairs, Carla sitting on the ground doing English lessons on her phone, and Jéssica at the door, coming back from taking the trash out. As the house didn’t have many common areas, the residents would often study or work sitting on the hallway floor. ©Amanda Magnani
Unlike the other residents, Beatriz didn’t move to Dublin on an English studying visa. With her Brazilian/Italian double citizenship, she moved in the search of work. Beatriz shared the bedroom with Amanda and Bárbara, until the latter moved out of the house. ©Amanda Magnani
Jéssica cleans the kitchen window, while Allan prepares his meal. Cleaning schedules were organised on a bedroom rotation basis in which each week, the occupants of one of the bedrooms were responsible for cleaning the bathrooms, whilst the occupants of another cleaned the kitchen and other common areas. ©Amanda Magnani
In the house, cloths were divided into those used for cleaning the bathrooms (photo), and those used for cleaning the kitchen and other common areas. They were washed and put to dry separately. ©Amanda Magnani
Everton cuts Eduardo’s hair in the backyard. They knew each other from Brazil, as they attended the same church in São Paulo. In Dublin, Everton and Eduardo lived in Bedroom 1 with Alan, from Guatemala. ©Amanda Magnani
First barbecue held in the backyard after some of the residents bought a grill. As it traditionally happens in Brazilian barbecues, besides the meat, there was rice, farofa, vinagrete and maionese, typical barbecue side dishes. From left to right: Alan, Beatriz, Jonathan, Daiane, Eduardo and Carla. ©Amanda Magnani
In the house there were two fridges. With lock down and restrictions, groceries shopping was reduced to a minimum, so each resident’s trip to the supermarket was normally big enough to last him or her at least a week. Since each person had no more than one shelf to store their food, both fridges were always at their fullest. ©Amanda Magnani
Pedro and Carla prepared typical São Paulo pastel for a common dinner, the last time all 12 residents of the house got together, before Bárbara moved out. During the months of lock down, such shared meals became a habit. From left to right: Bárbara, Eduardo, Felipe, Jonathan, Alan, Beatriz, Everton, Jéssica, Carla, Pedro and Diane. ©Amanda Magnani
Some of the residents got together in the entrance hall after dinner as Jonathan (center) tried to replicate a trending challenge from TikTok, where he took his shirt off and put it back on while doing a handstand against the door. From left to right: Beatriz, Pedro, Felipe, Jonathan and Everton. ©Amanda Magnani

To see more of Amada’s works, here

La fotógrafa del mes de junio es Amanda Magnani

Amanda Magnani es una periodista multimedia, fotógrafa y cineasta brasileña, que ha vivido en seis países y habla seis idiomas. Especialista en políticas públicas y justicia de género, actualmente participa en un programa de maestría en periodismo, medios de comunicación y globalización en Aarhus, Dinamarca, con una beca Erasmus Mundus. Sus fotografías fueron expuestas en el Festival de Fotografia de Tiradentes en 2017 y 2020, y en el Festival Elas en 2019. En 2020, formó parte del equipo organizador de Fotografias por Minas, campaña que unió a cientos de fotógrafos para recaudar fondos para Covid- 19 en Minas Gerais, Brasil.

Confined Away

Mi vida bajo llave como inmigrante recién llegada.

La cuarentena me atrapó en un lugar extraño. El 27 de marzo de 2020, menos de dos meses después de que emigré a Irlanda, todo el país quedó bajo bloqueo total. Durante semanas, dos kilómetros fue el radio máximo dentro del cual se me permitió viajar, una fracción infinitesimal de los más de 8.000 km que separan Dublín de Belo Horizonte, mi ciudad natal en Brasil. Si eres un ser humano en la Tierra en el 2021, probablemente hayas experimentado algún tipo de confinamiento o restricción de movimiento debido al Covid-19 durante el año pasado. Y si no estás encarcelado, ni eres un refugiado, supongo que su experiencia probablemente no implicó estar en un lugar desconocido, encerrado con personas que no conocía de antemano. Supongo que estabas, al menos hasta cierto punto, en casa. Yo no lo estaba. Tampoco lo fueron Beatriz, Alan, Eduardo, Everton, Jonathan, Diane, Pedro, Carla, Felipe y Jéssica, mis compañeros de piso en 177, Clonliffe Road, Dublin 03.

Once desconocidos repartidos en cinco habitaciones. Diez brasileños y un guatemalteco, todos inmigrantes recién llegados menos uno, que no habían tenido contacto previo entre ellos antes de poner un pie en esa casa y antes de ser confinados juntos. Se sintió como si fuéramos sujetos de un experimento social, excepto que nadie lo estaba llevando a cabo. Una vez que Covid-19 se nos acercó, ya no se nos permitió salir para nada más que ir al supermercado. De repente, el lugar al que solo esperaba volver para comer, ducharme y dormir, se convirtió en mi claustro. La única mesa de la casa, utilizada para comer, estudiar y trabajar, nunca estaba vacía, y nunca en silencio. Salvo algunos días de suerte, tuvimos que hacer cola para cocinar y ducharnos; y, en algunos casos muy desafortunados, es posible que incluso tengamos que hacer cola para usar el baño. Fueron un par de meses duros. Durante este tiempo, comencé a fotografiar la vida cotidiana en 177 Clonliffe Road, para intentar darle sentido a mi experiencia. Pero a medida que pasaban las semanas de encierro, pasamos de compartir casa a vivir juntos. La mañana de Pascua, Eduardo y Everton obtuvieron bombones para todos en la casa. Para los cumpleaños, recibiríamos un pastel y una tarjeta, firmada por “tu familia irlandés-brasileña”. Cuando finalmente llegó junio, no nos saltamos la tradicional Festa Junina: improvisamos en el vestuario y la decoración, pero la comida típica estaba ahí. Y casi todos los domingos almorzábamos juntos, como cualquier otra familia brasileña corriente. Aunque la mayoría de nosotros nos hemos ido 177, Clonliffe Road, hacemos todo lo posible para mantenernos en contacto. Y a medida que recordamos nuestro tiempo juntos, los recuerdos compartidos, los que guardamos, son los de respeto y apoyo mutuos.

Para ver más de los trabajos de Amanda, aquí