Your car isn’t just a way to get around—it’s a silent storyteller, revealing more about you than you might realize. But here’s where it gets controversial: What if your vehicle could challenge assumptions, spark debates, or even redefine how we see mobility, identity, and society? Dutch photographer Martin Roemers dives into this question with his thought-provoking project, Homo Mobilis—Latin for 'mobile human.' This isn’t your typical coffee-table book about sleek cars. Instead, it’s a deep exploration of how vehicles—from animal-drawn carts to rooftop gardens on wheels—reflect who we are, where we come from, and where we’re headed.
Roemers spent nearly five years crisscrossing eight countries across four continents, capturing 200 vehicles and the stories behind them. And this is the part most people miss: He didn’t just photograph cars; he used them as a lens to examine global inequalities, cultural identities, and the evolving nature of mobility in the 21st century. From a carpet repairman’s car-turned-billboard in Mumbai to a climate activist’s rooftop garden on wheels in Bengaluru, each vehicle tells a story.
Take Abdul’s car in Mumbai, for instance. Parked outside his carpet shop, it’s more than a mode of transport—it’s a mobile advertisement, a testament to ingenuity in a city where space is precious. Or consider Suresh, a lawyer and climate activist in Bengaluru, whose car sports a garden on its roof. He’s not just driving; he’s making a statement about reducing carbon footprints. Bold question: Could this be the future of urban mobility, or is it just a niche trend?
Roemers’ approach is deliberate. He isolates vehicles against plain white backdrops, stripping away distractions to focus on the essence of the car and its owner. This style, he explains, allows us to see beyond the chaos of traffic and into the heart of what these vehicles represent. But it wasn’t easy. Each shoot required meticulous planning—permissions, backdrops, and even a 12-meter-long steel pole to hang the white sheet.
The project spans diverse landscapes: Germany, the Netherlands, Senegal, China, and the U.S., among others. In Senegal, Roemers captured Mbaye, a newspaper vendor and artist whose bicycle-hitched cart is both a livelihood and a fashion statement. In Los Angeles, he met Juan, an immigrant from Mexico living in a camper van—a stark reminder of how vehicles can double as homes for the unhoused. Controversial interpretation: Are these vehicles symbols of resilience, or do they highlight systemic failures in housing and infrastructure?
China’s electric cargo bikes, piled high with toys or recycling, showcase the adaptability of vehicles to social and economic needs. Meanwhile, in India, Roemers documented the spiritual connection to cars, like the priest chanting prayers over a new BMW in Bengaluru. Thought-provoking question: Why do some cultures treat cars as sacred objects, while others see them as mere tools?
The book also tackles uncomfortable topics, like Kolkata’s hand-pulled rickshaws—a relic of colonial times and India’s caste system. These carts, now banned in many cities, represent both a livelihood and a stark reminder of societal hierarchies. Bold statement: Should we preserve such traditions as part of cultural heritage, or are they outdated symbols of oppression?
Homo Mobilis concludes with images of scrapped vehicles, a poignant reminder that even the most meaningful objects eventually return to their essence—metal and memory. Final question for you: Is there a vehicle in your life that holds a special place in your identity? Share your story in the comments—let’s keep the conversation moving.
