2002 — 2012
I first went to Ibiza in 1993, I went searching for the Balearic dream, my own personal Summer of Love. I left 6 weeks later with no money, no shoes and no passport. In 2002 I returned with a camera to photograph young people who had come to the island with similar aspirations to my youthful self i.e to go to clubs and get as wrecked as possible; or as Erich Fromm might suggest, seeking to banish existential isolation by joining a mass congregation for an orgiastic ritual of drug taking and dancing. For the next ten years (with the exception of 2008) I returned each summer in search of the devotees, the kids who show up in May and stay until all the clubs have finally closed in October. The kids that live to party.