Photographers written by Glorypearl Dy
I've always been fond of photography. During my elder sisters 4th year high school graduation, I even cried because I wasn't tasked to take the family picture. I did not consider the fact that it was crucial for me to be part of the frame.
I also loved looking at portraits of people and analyze their features and movements.I stare at people quite eerily, sometimes, trying to decipher the entirety of their character through their sketch.
I've been fond of photographers, as well. How they move. How they settle their cameras on their subjects and move their hands to adjust the lens. I love looking at their finished products and looking at their reactions after the praises I give them. I love to look at their eyes when they hear the compliments. How they try to hide their confidence by adjusting the speed of their blinks. And how they thank me by sharing photography secrets.
I haven't mentioned, most of the photographers I was fond of were men. And they were the macho kind. The kind who thinks that taking photographs of me can pull me forcibly into their world and lure me into complete obsessiveness. The kind who think I was gullible enough to melt into their photographs and stay there for eternity. Of course, I believe I was more than that. Freeing myself from their bubble after I get enough of their lives inside my frame was easy even boring.
But one time, I grew fond of a woman photographer who loved dogs and loved taking pictures of dogs. We rode a motorella together while she was carrying a huge bag where all her gadgets where tucked safely in, I was at the back seat staring at her. I was analyzing her life. She was smart to know that I was amazed at how cool she looked, I was sure.
This photographer had no air. She loved to show her photos of me but changes the subject when I am about to share a compliment. She isn't the macho kind who just takes pictures to gather praises. Mind you, she is almost literally blind with high graded lenses of her own but her eyes are like magnifying glasses. Her eyes can see through people's portraits and spell a person's character. When asked about love, she answers that she is happy being alone.
She is almost a mystery but still a concept locked into a frame.
Sometimes, I think that I will grow up like her. . .
Photographers capture life at its terminal stage preserving the soul for the others to breath as they glance.
I've always been fond of photography. During my elder sisters 4th year high school graduation, I even cried because I wasn't tasked to take the family picture. I did not consider the fact that it was crucial for me to be part of the frame.
I also loved looking at portraits of people and analyze their features and movements.I stare at people quite eerily, sometimes, trying to decipher the entirety of their character through their sketch.
I've been fond of photographers, as well. How they move. How they settle their cameras on their subjects and move their hands to adjust the lens. I love looking at their finished products and looking at their reactions after the praises I give them. I love to look at their eyes when they hear the compliments. How they try to hide their confidence by adjusting the speed of their blinks. And how they thank me by sharing photography secrets.
I haven't mentioned, most of the photographers I was fond of were men. And they were the macho kind. The kind who thinks that taking photographs of me can pull me forcibly into their world and lure me into complete obsessiveness. The kind who think I was gullible enough to melt into their photographs and stay there for eternity. Of course, I believe I was more than that. Freeing myself from their bubble after I get enough of their lives inside my frame was easy even boring.
But one time, I grew fond of a woman photographer who loved dogs and loved taking pictures of dogs. We rode a motorella together while she was carrying a huge bag where all her gadgets where tucked safely in, I was at the back seat staring at her. I was analyzing her life. She was smart to know that I was amazed at how cool she looked, I was sure.
This photographer had no air. She loved to show her photos of me but changes the subject when I am about to share a compliment. She isn't the macho kind who just takes pictures to gather praises. Mind you, she is almost literally blind with high graded lenses of her own but her eyes are like magnifying glasses. Her eyes can see through people's portraits and spell a person's character. When asked about love, she answers that she is happy being alone.
She is almost a mystery but still a concept locked into a frame.
Sometimes, I think that I will grow up like her. . .
I guess the woman photographer in this article is not really alone. She lives among the multitude of the people and living creatures that she is fond of. And though she maybe physically alone... she is able to commune with them eloquently through her "lense".
ReplyDeleteI love how you articulate the subtext of each of my stories. Thank you glorybee
ReplyDeletehaaay so nice and inspiring...
ReplyDeleteang ganda ate bam kc my similarities tau sa likes moh... =)
Thanks ping ping. yes. mei similarities tayu. more power.
ReplyDelete