Her sadness hurt. It still hurts when I see this image. The series did not work too well and I have never
forgotten the feeling of cold, dankness that seemed to surround her. When we started, the hair on the back of my neck
stood up and I couldn't figure out how to capture what I was feeling.
Strangely, when I developed the shots, nearly all of them were off with this cloudy, filmy murkiness to them. Eventually,
I have just accepted that her presence was heavy and in conflict and this is what came through in the images.
He's a guy, a real kind of fellow with spunk and spirit and so much going on. His lashes are long and luscious,
luxurious like any Hollywood type might want.
He was so round that I found him very hard to capture and shoot. Partly, I think it is his youth, but there was
more to him going on than just youth - he was, vibrant.
Delhi is this strange contrast of formal government life and poverty stricken life on the streets - and everything in
Our series together was extraordinary for me. As we went through the process of building the communication between
her and me as translate through the lense, we found calm.
When I started the series, I thought she had a humorous side and her snaggle tooth gave her this light aspect.
As we worked together, I became aware of the dignity and strength within her. She was serious and her power awed me.
We had a bit of a rough go of it. I saw him on the street just sitting down at the corner of a busy intersection
in Mumbai watching the world go by so to speak. I stopped the car and tried to get his approval to do some shots.
He bargained with me, not in a normal kind of way, but with good English, proper King's English.
I don't usually like to shoot people who want to be paid for it, unless they are indigent and so we had this awkward
commerce aspect to our shoot. He did not seem to be a person living in dire circumstances and I half expected
him to pull out a model shoot waiver along with a request for residuals, in advance.
A tough old cookie. He was snarly and mean spirited and didn't like me taking his picture. I apologized and
then he said ok.
I never really figured out for what reason we were doing these pictures and tried to walk away a few times,
but he motioned more and more and more. The series turns out with a bit of an edge and I'm not sure whether I brought
the edge or he always had it.
I can honestly say, I did not like this man, at all.
Perhaps he caught the American penchant for celebrity. I hope it isn't too contagious.
I sat across the street from this man for quite a while, just watching, wondering about his bowl. It was large
and plastic, the blue plastic type you'd find under a kitchen sink or in the closet with the scouring powder.
I watched him to see if there was an angle to his begging. He didn't proffer his bowl, didn't play and instrument
or reach out for contributions. He swayed gently in a manner akin to the blind, but somehow, reminiscent of a person
listening to a slow melody or quiet song.
I wondered if he were really blind and knew how silly this was because the air of authenticity stood out from this man.
And when we began, first without his knowledge, suriptitiously taken, then closer, he said to me, in English, "Feel free
to take my picture." And sheepishly I went closer, thanking him.
While shooting and talking and then growing to understand, he had been listening to music. It was the music of
the streets and the people and me taking pictures of him, knowing that I did not know that he knew.
We sat together a short while and he told me his story. He has been blind since birth and considers it a blessing.
He hears music everyday that most of the rest of us just don't get.
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