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There is an inherent melancholy in photography. Even lives as recorded by the camera as vital and present will over time, become ghosts. The inevitability of death hovers gently over all photographs.

Poverty Tourism.

A line in the essay by Eduardo Galeano on Salgado's work got me thinking -' [...] the tourism' of poverty[...]'. There have been too many photographers starting out who are fascinated by 'Poverty'. And they try their best to produce 'beautiful' photographs of sad poor people. I myself suffered a similar affliction. But I have realized that, this is in a way an act of exploitation, where utility is extracted from misery. These days, I steer clear from such a subject matter.

Goodbye Uncle Sam.

There's something really beautiful about a ritual in which the sons carry their father's coffin on their backs down 10 storeys of stairs.

A portrait is about people.

Things I learnt from the Justin Guariglia workshop:

i) a portrait should be about the people, hence the subject's facial expression, body language is very important, perhaps more important than the composition or the background, that is something I may have neglected before

ii) a strong portrait is one which reveals a connection between the subject and the photographer

iii) for that to happen, the subject must be at ease, the scene should not be contrived ( avoid deer in headlights look, tourist smile or goofy grin)

iv) to put subject at ease, spend time with the subject, be genuinely interested in him/her, establish a connection. Take many photos.

v) pose the subject, you are the director, tell the subject what to do, where to stand, whether to smile, how to smile, mouth closed or open, where to look

small details matter and add interest to an environmental portrait

vi) never let hubris get in the way of a better picture, you can always do better.

Crossfire

Love this one by Brandon Flowers. Looking forward to the next Killers' release.

Plasticine People

Are we plasticine people? Soft, malleable, leading lives dictated. Are we slaves to our jobs, compelled to run ever faster in the hamster wheel, to pay for our bills, to pay off our mortgages? I want to hold tight to my dreams and ideals but with each passing year, fear creeps in. I may be getting too old for dreams.