Let’s continue talking about portrait… refer to part 1 if needed, but this piece can be read as stand-alone. It is mostly my attempt to make sense of my own processes.
Also, you have to forgive my english, I can convey only so much in a second language…
How does one improve in portrait photography? Where do we start? Let’s start from the beginning…
Imagine that you have to take a portrait of a stranger. You have your lights and camera set. A stranger sits in front of you. What do you do?
You start with an introduction.
No matter who your subject is — a friend, family member, a celebrity or a complete stranger, — they will feel much better if you introduce to them what you actually try achieve during your portrait session. …
You come to a place you trust, then you trust it some more. I read the line in Todd Hiddo’s book, and the words itself belongs to someone else, I don’t remember.
I shoot black and white for years now. I am at the point where I am not sure if I can produce a great image unless its in black and white (commercially wise, I can do anything), but I think I am getting bored now.
I wonder what kind of images I will come up with if I went back to colour, to the days of being wild.
“I will not betray you,” I whisper to you with all my honesty, staring at you with dog-like-faithful eyes. You stare back and wonder if I am real. Real honesty struck people as alien. You try to connect with my eyes to confirm — but there is a box with a lens between us — so there is no way to know. And so you give in…
Is it easier to — if you don’t actually know?
One looks through the finder of the camera. One pushes the release button.
More often than not, one pretends that he does it for himself.
When he stops pretending — he is left with an ordinary yet somewhat simple state of enjoying that familiar presence. Now.
All this happens while the shutter is opened, and all this is finished when it closes. And one goes back to pretending again.
Left with memory.
I wonder if there is no way of cutting through a circle of violence…
my grandmother used to beat me and close me in a dark cupboard. (though it was in my memory vault till like early 30-s when I finally made myself face my past and made myself remember it).
In kindergarten, teachers used to beat me cause I was different; post-soviet education was a mess at those times. My mixed blood look added to confusion.
All this made me a violent kid, I beat the shit out of my kindergarten and school classmates up until 12–13 y.o. Never felt good about it and hated me for the inability to communicate with people my inner struggle with violence and loneliness. …
I haven’t written in days. And haven’t shot anything meaningful either. Work-work-work.
I think I am at bottom of the well now. My dad gave me a good advice: When you take things too seriously – life stops being a game and becomes a chore.
I need to start playing again…
I released my first photobook. It is a first part of "Metamorphoze" trilogy of books.
For those who interested you can see the video preview here
where you can also purchase it.
Am I in someones dream?
Tokyo moves closer and becomes intimate with me only through photography. Pictures I casually snap during my walks remind me of the beautiful, sad, and somewhat sensual relationship that I have with it. Of course, this relationship, like any of a kind, is complicated and changes with time, making snap photography all so more transient to me.
I am not a conventional street photographer in any way, and the time when I roamed the streets aimlessly to re-affirm my own presence and find things to express just for the sake of expressing myself are long gone now. …
I wonder if the heart wrapped in infatuation is like a mirror in a love hotel – enhancing only desired. At some point, the goal becomes blurred. The thoughts are grainy like cheap black and white film from Chekoslovakiya.
I am not sure if I come here for creation, for naked women that pose for me or to indulge in unpredictable. Visions of all the women stare at me through the mirrors, even when there is only one reflected. This stare is like a stare of God… penetrating to the point of silence.
Ah, silence. Here it is. Here is the goal of all creation… silence that only living heart can feel. …