Pilachi_Sketch [ BLOG ]

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.