Yuri
Yuri hadn’t been groomed for a while, and hairs were sticking out of his nostrils. Ismail, his father, playfully pinched […]
Yuri hadn’t been groomed for a while, and hairs were sticking out of his nostrils. Ismail, his father, playfully pinched […]
A few days after her portrait session, I visited this lady in the hospital to send my regards, and to show her the photographs we’ve taken. She looked so happy, but it would be the last time I see her in person.
Just because I can draw, paint and make “artistic” pictures, doesn’t make me an “artist”.
I’ve been asked countless times, “what’s the most unique location you’ve been to?”, but never, ever, not once in more than 14 years did anyone ask me about the wonderful people I’ve photographed.
I didn’t ask this groom to swing the bride like this. I didn’t predict the gown’s beautiful twirl, nor the dance of shadows of the leaves. None of this was my idea.
I find myself inexplicably tongue-tied whenever I’m asked about my “passion in photography”.
To begin with, I don’t exactly feel intensely passionate about photography.
I started taking photographs because it was the most convenient thing available at that time.
There was a time when we would sit by the sea, and watch the sun as it sets over the horizon.
With nothing in the background to make my photos interesting, I was forced to work with only 2 things: light, and the person in front of me.
You can’t force the moment. You can’t force a pose. You can’t tell them to smile, and expect them to