Erin Krall is a photographer based in New Orleans, focused on the urban experience and telling stories of place. Her project in-progress, King Minnow, tells the story of futbol culture in the capitals of Central America and the Caribbean, as well as diaspora communities in Miami and New Orleans.
I’ve always viewed New Orleans through the lens of the greater Americas—amongst the land and people that surround the Gulf of Mexico and fill in the Caribbean Sea. Long-neglected statues of hemispheric heroes still dot the city – José Martí, Benito Juárez, Francisco Morazán, Simón Bolívar – from our time as “The Gateway to the Americas”…before Miami became, Miami.
Earlier this year, when I came across a local amateur soccer team with a familiar and epic name, Motagua, the pieces of a photo project I’d been trying to form fell into place. Named for an iconic team in Tegucigalpa, Honduras—Motagua New Orleans is a beautiful, current representation of the city’s long-shared history with Honduras and Central America that goes back more than a century (hola, banana trade). With squad members from Honduras, the United States, England, Brazil and Iraq, the city’s modern face is on display.
A project focused on the adoration and social aspects surrounding the game that unites the majority of the world; the plan is to spend the next few years pitchside, photographing the culture shared across diaspora communities in New Orleans and Miami, and capitals of Central America and the Caribbean.
On summer nights at Pan American Stadium in City Park, adoration looks like pupusas, fried chicken, sliced mango and cans of Modelo. Bachata music plays throughout the match, and every kid in the place is having the best night of their life.
Common coverage of all these humid locations share in their extremes—we’re either under hurricane siege or it’s Carnival. I feel like the more we can see the mundane, average routines we share, the more empathy and understanding will have to follow.
It’s a tiny thing, but it feels nice to be making this for no one but the people documented—a small altar to the residents, the region, and our collective worship of the game.