Pilachi_Sketch [ BLOG ]

Change?

If there is so much that
is
and was
and always
has been
How can change be absolute…?
by whom
with what
and in what context
do you want this arbitrary absolute change?
Shall the change you want become
effective
because of its
effect…if…?
and for whose benefit-
exactly…?
those in need
or those with greed
more likely those who need to feed their greed
in the form of
proposed compassion.

Do not be misled by the light, coloured verbiage
the insupportable, insubstantial
miles, miles of promised, changed
assumed
truly a joke
in the reality of our
circumstance
at our ex-pence.

We need not-not the exchange

our change is within
our people
our path is set
ever forward.

Pam Gordon-Hickling [ aka Pampidou ]

The curse of the man who knew too much was indeed that he knew too little. Too little about the ways of the world, of how people in the world interact, and just how expactant his disparate expectations really were. The curse of the man who knew too much, was indeed that he knew too little.

Opinions are like ass-holes, everybody has one. To think that one’s shit does not stink, is the tragedy of our times. For we all enter discussions with the perspective that our bio-organic matter has the nutrients to sustain life as we know it. I am one such unfortunate asshole. Gaping.

I should really say that Ghana is a wonderful place; because it is. I should really say that the people are some of the nicest people you will meet in the world; because they are. I should say that Ghana abounds with opportunities that present themselves in very few locales; because it does.

Why should I choose to say so many things and feel the strongest propulsion to leave? Because I do. Through no fault of my own.
Ghana operates on a logic beyond my comprehension; a logic driven almost entirely on money. Friends, family, kin… nothing seems to be more important than money here. It is the strangest thing to see… the lust for it, the yearning, the craving, the scheming, the wheeling, the dealing… for paper with numbers on them.

To what end. I would say that one would sell his brother into slavery for money here, but then, you already knew that.

Travelling to Brussels, Germany, London and throughout Ghana to help in the process of documenting key events and personalities for a very important project that we are just about to wrap up… was a very daring and intrepid explorer… Le Darque himself. It has been a whirlwind adventure and “Jon Pili” as he is now affectionately called, of dogmeat.com and darkies incorporated [names we gave ourselves along the way while interacting with "racialists" as Ali-G says], is our personal hero for the month of “Ma-july.”

[ I will not burst his secret by showing to the world photographs of Jon Pili in a suit ]

“I have been invited on the private planes of Presidents, driven in three presidential convoys with four different European and African presidents and witnessed a community that housed fifty African Presidents in one place… and I met the Big Dads himself on five occasions… Kufurida. [ our emphatic term for new personal hero -- John Kufuor -- President of African Union | President of Ghana]. Nobody would believe the stories I could tell. - Jon Pili

To Jon Pili I say, we owe you a profound debt of gratitude. May le darque shine through all obscurity.

May there be no gutter too dirty nor president too lofty, no subject too difficult and no ass- [too] “-holey”; no prison too dark; nor security barrier too difficult to cross. May you always remember these life changing experiences and the importance of telling a balanced story.

Above all, always ask the most important questions of all… “Why you laugh-ted?” and “Why you did-ed that?” - Ajani [three year old self proclaimed leader of "all the people"]

Until next time

- Akindeleeeeee

p.s. Don’t worry, Ghanaians are just friendly… he is not really trying to grab your ass.

You know what, I should probably not write about this… but I have to get it out somehow.

The African Union Summit has been a phenomenal travesty of intellectual capacity, interpersonal relations and common social decency.

In a nation that still clings to the vestiges of slavery and colonialism, with people referring to their “master” or their “madam” or the fact that they are “houseboys” or “housegirls” who live in “boys quarters” I should really not be surprised.

“Only the foreign press are allowed” … “I will beat you if you do not step back.” The sad part in all of this is, I am not even a part of the press… yet we all faced blatant discrimination.

Do I look down on the press? If so, then I disrespect my own mother. Do I look down on custodial staff? If so, then I disrespect my grandmother. I do not look down on the “us” or the “they.”

I simply say… what the fuck is going on in the world.

I am in the twilight zone… and I do not understand how on earth to change this.

Africa needs to dismantle the vestiges of slavery and colonialism or it shall never be free.

Now, I can safely say, that I am comfortable with the D-200 camera. I now use it exclusively and feel so limited when the two 8.0 gb cards are full, and I have to revert to the D70. I loved that camera; but somehow, it feels as though it limits the potential of the subject I meet.
They say a poor tradesman blames his tools. That is not the case at all. I love the D70; it has served me well. It is just that the D200 feels as though it fits the recesses of my palm and gently coaxes my fingertips to release its shutter. Even the gentle shudder is welcoming. A pounding staccato in rapid progression [that was redundant and emphatic]; reminding me that with each shudder, there is an echo… a beckoning for the next release.

The mirror falls and the pressure is once again expressed as the subject comes into focus.

shudder.

I don’t usually take photos of ladies, because in someway that seems improper, given my marital status; however in passing, I took a photograph of a lady in Axim a few weeks ago, who under normal circumstances would not otherwise strike me as an interesting subject; yet when she commanded me to “picture [her]“, with the prelude of a bolstered commanding tone, I obliged; and found when I got home, that it was a very striking image; much softer than its misdirecting emotional forebear.

Something about her face just seemed to be comfortable and her expression of emotion with the camera was effortless. It was wonderful; I began to see “peace” as the beauty in the eyes of a lady. It was a moving experience to see the image on the screen; where in the moment, it was a shot in passing.

Today I met a few ladies who asked me to take their photographs. It seemed to be a similar experience. I was amazed at the texture that began to jump from the images. The intrigue behind the various pairs of glasses. The power in a smile and the grasp of a brow; and for some, the reaching out from the eyes while silently quivering in repose.

It is hard for me to look into the eyes of another person without beginning to see their pain; which is why it is so difficult for me to photograph Ambassador Bridgewater… I see a pain so deeply ingrained, and a fortress so firmly rooted, that I cannot help empathizing with, what I imagine to be the voiceless cry for just that… empathy. It is a vacant sorrow that I cannot quite come to terms with.

With some, I see masks, with an emptiness that knows no bounds. Yet somehow, with others, I am beginning to see more than just pain. I am seeing slowness… like a tributary; slow gliding movement… of a whisp on the brow; taut pearlescent shimmering…as with beads of salt water and sweat on moonlit skin.

I am seeing paintings again. And that makes me feel alive.

Now, here are a few photographs of Children in Ghana. The main concern I have, and the main reason I do not like to take photographs of people… I tend to see deep into the emotions of people (or maybe project my interpretation of their emotions, but in speaking with them or trying to capture a photograph, I only capture a mask… never an honest emotional expression. I dont like that.

With children it is different… they have not all learnt to express nuance and the subtlety of guise.

The Princess of Osu

The Queen of Axim

Pensive Schoolboy, Kumasi

Painful Teeth, Axim

Not one for hero worship, the ode to Herbie Hancock Surprised even me. Even more surprising is the fact that I am spending most of my time taking photographs of people, where under normal circumstances, I do not like to take photos of people. Here are a few shots from the now burgeoning collection of Ghanaian photographs [most of which are embargoed for the project that I am currently working on.] These, are not political in nature, so here they are: male celebrities.

Ozwald Boateng, International Fashion Designer

Samini - Rising Ghanaian Popular Music Star (Multi Ghana Music Award Winner)

King Ayisoba - Intuitive Styling at its best (Multi Ghana Music Award Winner)

Ozwald Boateng, International Fashion Designer