In the UK for example, there are the ‘real Gypsies’ and the ‘so-called Travellers’. This varies by country and region of course, but also according to the dichotomous image of the Gypsy which most people hold in the heads. When non-Romani artists set out to depict images of Roma, they inevitably do so with some preconceived notion of ‘the Gypsy’ that they expect to find. I mean that quite literally, the vast majority of images made of Roma, whether they are made using paint, lithograph, photograph or film, have historically always been made by non-Roma, and therefore subject to their fantasies, fetishes, and fears. I don’t just mean the literary or cultural idea of Romani people as perceived by society. Images of Gypsies – or as most throughout Europe call themselves, Roma – have always been controlled by the stereotypes of the majority society. Maybe you see a fortune teller, or a travelling metalsmith? Perhaps a musician? If you are European, more likely you also see a beggar, a thief, a criminal. They may or may not have a tambourine, and may or may not be wearing a turban with a little gem in the centre holding it up. If I ask you to close your eyes and picture a Gypsy in your mind’s eye you probably see someone with bangles and gold hoop earrings, floral patterned clothing, long hair, and dark flashing eyes. I live in an apartment in the centre of a European capital with a woman whom I am not married to, and I travel only about 20 minutes maximum by foot every day to go to work.
Most of the time I wear jeans and t-shirt, I rarely ever dance on tables, and I have no piercings or tattoos.
I don’t wear a lolo diklo (red scarf) around my neck, or a staddi kali (black trilby hat) on my head.
My mother is of mostly Irish-American stock – which gives me a few ginger wisps in my beard, and a smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks. I am probably not the image most people have in their mind when they think of a Gypsy.