no larger than a child's fist
cocks his head and considers my presence.
He is perched on a clothesline
adjacent to drying kitchen towels
and an unruly mop head.
I am just 2 meters away, but behind glass
and despite the absence of tangible threat,
I am still the unknown,
and he quickly he takes to wing.
Across the way
I gaze upon the now familiar
Romanian apartment buildings,
smartly 2 toned in yellow and white.
The tin roofs - a haphazard patchwork
of rusted and shining pieces.
Atop each building are old-school TV antennae
forming a small forest of irregular trees.
The cement rectangular buildings
supporting protruding porches
are more cheerful and idiosyncratic
then decades of anti-Eastern block propaganda
would have us believe.
The walkways, playgrounds, car parks
are more social and less about socialism,
more about community than communism.
The green lawn below is as fresh as everywhere.
The adjacent car park overflowing
with efficient small European
Dacias, Skodas and second hand German autos.
The familiar and the unfamiliar -
that is the theme for the morning.
when does one become the other?
When does it switch back?
There is nothing like photographing
with fresh eyes.
Seeing what is distinct,
and remarkable
to that particular place and time
and capturing it within the frame.
Preserving the light and movement
sometimes a hint of a scent
signified by a color
or laughter in a smile,
a bicycle wheel turning
a streak of light
a blue tinged shadow,
two girls holding hands
a sadness hidden in eyes
an unopened surprise.
These are the petite minutiae
which those more familiar
might never register
as worthy of focus.
It's just the breeze
the air we breathe.
Yet there is also the wonder
of returning to then same place
time and time again
changed seasons,
changed light
changed moods
changed aspirations.
Each time creating something unique
Until you do not.
But the first time,
so spontaneous and naive
never fails to thrill my soul.
I find the same inspiration
in certain early work
of great artists:
In the teenage gospel of Sam Cooke,
In Elvis Costello's first albums
so full and anger and angst.
Baudelaire's Fleur du Mal.
Yes in Marlon Brando and Leonardo DiCaprio's
youthful acting,
And the precise fully accomplished
drawings of precious Picasso.
Early works and late works by an artist
may both spring from the same spirit
One pure and unfiltered
the other imprinted with a life lived.
I know that my unfiltered eyes
can intuitively sense
the minutia of uniqueness
that each local offers.
Later with a greater cultural
and historical knowledge,
the art is more thought out,
more measured, worked,
refined if not over-refined.
Fresh eyes and an open mind
are always essential.
Quiet the thoughts.
Work from instinct
Be in the moment
Interact with those you meet without artifice.
Wear your good intent in a smile.
Let your camera be a heartfelt greeting
rather than a weapon.
yalomphotography.com
(click on any picture for slideshow)
