Photophilia
I said in my post last evening that I discovered photography anew. More detached now, I realize that this happens often... and feels no different from discovering a new side to someone we know well. Yet, our love grows in leaps and bounds as we discover these new sides, and so it is with me and the camera. Taking a picture becomes much like taking in a sip of water then, and yesterday, I had been in the desert for days, it seemed. As N gave me the liberty to click indiscriminately, I found my energy levels rise slowly, and a fullness prevailed within. It is lovely to be able to capture sights, and the potential potency of a visual capture is really something else. [Yesterday, we talked about how I am forever at a loss for descriptors these days, such that everything is "really something" or "really something else". I can't remember to whom or when though!]
I am helped by the existence of a dear friend from Bangalore (well, at least one, at any rate). While I walk the streets of the city, I do my best to step out and into her shoes - wondering what would make her nostalgic, what would move her as a 'gift' from home, what is the closest I could bring her to home and how? Thank you camera, thank you smugmug, for allowing me to reach her thus :). (And thank you P, for helping me exercise this ability!)
On the way back to Yelahanka, I reflected on a thought process I'd had on M.G. Road. I heard a girl say on the phone, "I'll hang up now, it's really crowded here and my cellphone could get stolen." And here I had an expensive camera generously on display. For a second I wondered if I ought to be more careful. But I had considered that option, packed in my camera, then taken it out again, dismissing the concern. In just a few minutes of walking empty-handed, my fingers had itched, and my eyes had longed for the viewfinder - to capture the richness of the street scenes.
There'd been a time (a very long time) when I was terribly possessive about the camera, and would be extra-alert when it was handled by someone else. I'd also carry the bag with me everywhere, so as to ensure that it was never stolen. Even the thought of it being stolen was uber-painful then. Now, there is no anxiety on that count. I frequently offer it to others to click with (including my four-year old niece and photographer-in-training, though the strap goes around her twice to adjust to her size :). I also embrace the possibility of it getting stolen one of these days, as I click in crowded rural/urban streets indiscriminately. It seems not to bother me at all (and this when I earn a fifth of what I did then!).
A comparison of these two attitudes led me to wonder if one was decidedly better than the other. The latter brings more peace, but does it also make me less attentive, more lax? And even if I was possessive before, I was devoted to the care of the camera, I tended to it as a mother to a child (well, almost). For any two choices, if one involves peace, that's where my pull is, yet it is instructive to realize that it is not all black and white, ever. No shortage of the grey. In fact, ye to "thoos thoos ke bhara hai" (as Qawwal Farid Ayaz would say).
I am helped by the existence of a dear friend from Bangalore (well, at least one, at any rate). While I walk the streets of the city, I do my best to step out and into her shoes - wondering what would make her nostalgic, what would move her as a 'gift' from home, what is the closest I could bring her to home and how? Thank you camera, thank you smugmug, for allowing me to reach her thus :). (And thank you P, for helping me exercise this ability!)
On the way back to Yelahanka, I reflected on a thought process I'd had on M.G. Road. I heard a girl say on the phone, "I'll hang up now, it's really crowded here and my cellphone could get stolen." And here I had an expensive camera generously on display. For a second I wondered if I ought to be more careful. But I had considered that option, packed in my camera, then taken it out again, dismissing the concern. In just a few minutes of walking empty-handed, my fingers had itched, and my eyes had longed for the viewfinder - to capture the richness of the street scenes.
There'd been a time (a very long time) when I was terribly possessive about the camera, and would be extra-alert when it was handled by someone else. I'd also carry the bag with me everywhere, so as to ensure that it was never stolen. Even the thought of it being stolen was uber-painful then. Now, there is no anxiety on that count. I frequently offer it to others to click with (including my four-year old niece and photographer-in-training, though the strap goes around her twice to adjust to her size :). I also embrace the possibility of it getting stolen one of these days, as I click in crowded rural/urban streets indiscriminately. It seems not to bother me at all (and this when I earn a fifth of what I did then!).
A comparison of these two attitudes led me to wonder if one was decidedly better than the other. The latter brings more peace, but does it also make me less attentive, more lax? And even if I was possessive before, I was devoted to the care of the camera, I tended to it as a mother to a child (well, almost). For any two choices, if one involves peace, that's where my pull is, yet it is instructive to realize that it is not all black and white, ever. No shortage of the grey. In fact, ye to "thoos thoos ke bhara hai" (as Qawwal Farid Ayaz would say).
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