Second letter to Okami, far away
Beloved Greyback,
I saw this today http://blog.zeit.de/fotoblog/2010/05/04/aufwachsen-in-afghanistan/ and it made me think of you and your wonderful photos. And about last summer, when you gave me the opportunity to discover what I wanted for so long – taking pictures – real pictures – myself, playing adventurer and documentarist.
I still feel the sun of that time, especially since it becomes spring here rapidly. Not quite the same light though. It is a much colder tone here.
Accompanying you on your travels, shoots and work, sharing your life in that way – I never got an oppurtunity to get to know someone like that before. Probably never will again.
I am feeling sometimes like a spectator, a reader of a novel. And sometimes like the narrator. Or the director. Or the photographer.
Your metaphor of being a war photographer comes up now, of course. I guess, I learned the hardest part of it the hard way: don't get too involved – don't take it personal, it isn't about you, you can be there, do what you can and accept what you came watching for. Sometimes your only chance to make a change is to watch and tell the world. Sometimes you can do more. But it is not your war and never will be and only by accepting that you can make a differnce.
If you are too close, you can't be a mirror anymore, you've changed sides, you miss what only someone from the outside – or with a "beginners mind" – might see.
But if you can stay a mirror, consciously and with purpose sometimes reflecting, pointing out and telling a story in a picture, you can stay in the war as long as it goes and care, protect and serve for what you feel for.
Report about it or be involved it – not always doable. But to do so, to maintain a certain detachment and staying compassionate is the only way to go, to tell the in the best picture possible, right?
xxx
I saw this today http://blog.zeit.de/fotoblog/2010/05/04/aufwachsen-in-afghanistan/ and it made me think of you and your wonderful photos. And about last summer, when you gave me the opportunity to discover what I wanted for so long – taking pictures – real pictures – myself, playing adventurer and documentarist.
I still feel the sun of that time, especially since it becomes spring here rapidly. Not quite the same light though. It is a much colder tone here.
Accompanying you on your travels, shoots and work, sharing your life in that way – I never got an oppurtunity to get to know someone like that before. Probably never will again.
I am feeling sometimes like a spectator, a reader of a novel. And sometimes like the narrator. Or the director. Or the photographer.
Your metaphor of being a war photographer comes up now, of course. I guess, I learned the hardest part of it the hard way: don't get too involved – don't take it personal, it isn't about you, you can be there, do what you can and accept what you came watching for. Sometimes your only chance to make a change is to watch and tell the world. Sometimes you can do more. But it is not your war and never will be and only by accepting that you can make a differnce.
If you are too close, you can't be a mirror anymore, you've changed sides, you miss what only someone from the outside – or with a "beginners mind" – might see.
But if you can stay a mirror, consciously and with purpose sometimes reflecting, pointing out and telling a story in a picture, you can stay in the war as long as it goes and care, protect and serve for what you feel for.
Report about it or be involved it – not always doable. But to do so, to maintain a certain detachment and staying compassionate is the only way to go, to tell the in the best picture possible, right?
xxx
koneko do - 23. Mär, 14:57