Been working on photographing couples the past few months. It’s more difficult than I initially thought. You want to express love, but there’s only so many way one can do so without kissing.
You’re no longer photographing an expression, as with a single person portrait, but an interaction.
Having two people express themselves in such a way can be tricky too. Many are too shy to kiss in public, let alone on camera.
When it works, though, it works. You can see it in their faces. The way their eyes shine. It’s almost like they lose themselves, because they’re drowning in each other, and nothing else in the world exists.
And, of course, best viewed large and on black. Click through for full size.
One of my photographs, entitled “Avian Encroachment”, has been selected as one of the finalists in CBCs 2008 Nature in Focus contest under the category Your Habitat. There were 1200 entries entered this year.
The title is a play on the term “urban encroachment”, which is used to describe the destructive habits of human activity spreading over natural areas.
Since the photo is of a pigeon sitting next to the spikes used to keep birds off the ledges of buildings, it appeared to me that he was flaunting his position, and pushing back.
One of my geology teachers in university said that it was silly to think of us trying to save the planet, because the earth, as a living thing, is going to be around for a long time. Environmentalism is really about saving ourselves.
I put on my most comfortable hoodie, grab a camera and a tripod. Pass by the mirror and see my eyes are swollen. A baseball cap’ll hide my face.
I put on The Alchemy Index. First is Fire. An anthem of rage, and burning, and fury in the night.
The flames will rise and devour me.
Oh, to breathe in fire, and know I’m free.
I find a quiet, winding road, alternating between 60 and 30 max. About eight kilometres down, there’s a small ferry loading dock, with a place to park on the side of the road. I get out and take a picture of the car. Other cars keep passing by, their headlights leaving streaks across my camera sensor.
The road slopes upwards around a bend, and I drive off again to find out where it goes.
There’s a lookout point on a cliff, surrounded by a rail. Across the waves of the Ottawa river is Quebec. People come and go. Three types of people.
The couples here for a romantic view. They park, walk up to the railing, and talk to each other about nothing in particular. The girlfriends get cold and shortly want to leave.
The kids in their parent’s cars, already high or drunk. They sit in the car with all the lights on, talking through their music, oblivious to the serenity around them otherwise.
The men here by themselves, abandoned and alone on a Friday night. They sit in their cars with the lights out, and come out to lean on the railing every now and then. I’m one of them.
On my way back, I skip Water and put on Air. A song about a boy who could fly, about falling upwards and away.
So, here we go.
Hold on tight and don’t let go.
I won’t ever let you fall.
I love the night.
Flying o’er these city lights.
But I love you most of all.
I miss a turn, and find a smooth pavement road that winds through the forest. My eyes are dry and tired. I put on the high beams and cruise control, discovering another way home.
I’ve sold 10 of my fruit and body prints so far. Officially, I’ve made a small profit, with the money being used to pay off the debt incurred from the purchase of much photo gear.
When Dan did my reading two years ago, he mentioned that I see colours differently from other people, and that I should try making money off my art.
Back then, I was far from considering myself an “artist”. I used my camera to express myself in capturing memories, not in delivering messages. At the first Emergence Exposition, Nisha would introduce me to people as a photographer. I would add the word amateur as a prefix, but Nisha would correct me and say aspiring. I suppose I’m more inclined to agree with her now. Being able to support myself like this (albeit in a small way) makes a big difference.
It’s a great feeling when someone hands me a cheque, and on the little memo line is written “art”.
The best part of the entire process though, is meeting people. Not just meeting people I ask to model for me, but when I’m delivering prints as well. I get to see where they’re going to hang the pictures, and I get to meet their kids, their parents, their pets, their friends.
Most recently, it was Tiana, who has two dogs, a cat, and a husband. I didn’t get to meet Brent (or the cat) but I’m sure the opportunity will present itself at some time in the future.
