that thing called photography

For a long time I couldn't take pictures anymore. After a couple of years I had seen enough. I had had enough of angry people. Totally violented by the presence of my camera in front of them or their property, they tried to return to me the violence that the camera caused on them. They associated the direct and specific attitude of the photographer with the violating and offensive movement of an agressor. But one which weapon doesn't kill your body but it kills your dignity instead. And so they fought back to me, trying to reduce me to recover their good feelings.

I used to cristalize magic unbelieveable moments that happened out there. I never meant to judge or punish, I was just trying to remark and enjoy unimaginable events and celebrate their existance. For that I froze them into observable images that contained three parts: me, my subjective enviroment and all the rest. I just wanted to give those images a life, capability to signify and evolve. For me and for all others.

But my innocence turned into evil. And I was the evil spreading suffer and getting back suffer and so for a long while I lost the strength and claimed my right to be an anonymous intranscendent floating creature that was the most innocent of all around.

taumh.wordpress.com